


Know Thy Enemy

by D_OShae



Series: Wizarding World War of the Z [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, World War Z - Max Brooks
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14148153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_OShae/pseuds/D_OShae
Summary: In the midst of the Z War one team struggles to overcome internal differences and discover an answer about zombies while another fights over vast leagues to locate the source of the zee and find a desperately needed tome. It is a race against odds and time.





	1. Chapter 1

Natalie sat in the meeting and watched the five magi squirm under the collective gaze of Colonel Lange, Major Garner, and her. Padma Bray, a field-commissioned Major in the British Army, faced the three normies with a slightly sheepish look on her face. Conversely, Michael Corner, Adrian Pucey, Teddy Lupin, and Dr. Miriam Stout stared either at the table top, the floor, or anywhere else. They dressed in the odd manner of magi that combined several periods of fashion into one assemblage. It looked simultaneously modern and out-of-date. The others in the room wore the duty uniforms, including Padma. However, an undercurrent of tension filled the room. Colonel Lange sighed.

“Okay, let's go over it again,” the colonel said in a patient, slow fashion. “We keep the zee tied down with heavy, leather straps. We also chain the arms and legs to the examination platform. We fabricated wire cages that fit snugly on their heads. Four guards are stationed the in the room with the rifles aimed squarely at the zee. Now, given all that, how the hell do you think they're going to either get loose or attack you before being gunned down?”

Padma slumped a bit. Teddy shrugged his shoulders. As the youngest of the group by quite a bit, he appeared the least embarrassed. Corner, Pucey, and Stout, however, each turned a little scarlet on their cheeks and around their necks. Natalie felt bad for them, but she also got frustrated. She understood their fear to some degree, but the normie military met every one of their demands to ensure their safety. The group needed to study live zee, a phrase no one used unless they wanted to become the object of serious derision, in order to discern exactly what magic got used to create them.

“Major Bray, you do understand why you have to give up your wand now before going into the examination room?” Colonel Lange asked without sounding critical.

“Yes, ma'am,” the magi major quietly uttered. “I am very sorry about the room, but it looked...”

“No, Padma, it did not look like it was about to escape. It can't.”

Two days before they conducted another trial to see if the magi could enter into into a room with an active undead without panicking. They knew the zee would react to their presence, especially their combined presence, and to remember the creature lay secured to the table. When Padma got within three feet of the zee, it began to thrash about. She panicked. She drew her wand. She let lose with a stream of magical fire that incinerated the zee and melted the exam table. It also melted everything behind the table as well. The two guards station in the back corners dove for safety after the first tongue of fire got unleashed. The clean up grew estimated Major Bray's fire burned at over twelve hundred degrees Celsius. The scorched exam room would serve as a supply room in the future since the damage rendered future sterilization impossible.

“Yes, ma'am,” Padma mumbled.

“I know your communities got hit the hardest. I know most of you have seen a few things we can't even begin to imagine. We know the zee specifically hunt you and normies are just a hold over snack,” Amanda Lange spoke calmly and evenly to the group.

Natalie used her hand to hide her grin regarding the last statement. Major Gerald Garner, the sub-commander of the base, also fought to keep from smirking. Natalie saw one flicker on Teddy's face. She still found difficult to accept the young man's late father could turn into a werewolf. The magi gave them repeated assurances Teddy would not transform since the affliction tended to appear in early childhood when passed from parent to child. However, he did receive the ability to change parts of his features at will from his mother. He stood a bit over six feet and seemed normal, but one day short red hair turned into longer black hair the next, only to transform to shaggy auburn by the end of the afternoon. His nose would change length and shape, as did his ears. Teddy's could alter the contours of his face. Sometimes the military personnel assigned to their section would stop him and question the young man like a stranger until he assumed the form on his identification badge. Natalie asked Padma if Teddy lacked the ability to control the transformation, but the magi woman adamantly stated he did it on purpose.

“Let's all stay focused on our objectives. We need you to be able to approach the zee and conduct examinations and experiments if we are going to defeat this plague,” the colonel continued. “We are enormously grateful the four of you volunteered along with Major Bray...”

“Do we get ranks?” Adrian Pucey interrupted.

“As soon as you last three days out in the wild in zee infested territory without your wand, we'll talk.”

Adrian looked shocked at the suggestion. The dark haired, dark eyed man with rather sallow skin glanced nervously about the room. Of all the magi, he tended to be the most shy. Getting him to speak or interact sometimes proved a chore. The saving grace came from the fact that when he participated the ideas or information he shared proved highly useful. The man ran an emporium specializing in cursed, hexed, jinxed, or otherwise magicked items. His ability to discern subtle differences between spells routinely awed his magical colleagues. Everyone hoped he would be able to sort out which spells got used to animate the dead and turn them into such deadly, vicious creatures. However, Adrian needed to overcome his fear of the zee in order to complete his part of the overall mission.

“Now, we are going to try again this afternoon,” the colonel told them. “You will all surrender your wands...”

Several of the magi sputtered.

“No exceptions!”

The sputters turned to grumbles. Angry looks settled on the faces of the magi. Natalie sensed the colonel breached some form of etiquette. 

“I cannot stress enough to you how important your safety is to us. Based on everything we've learned since your squad got assembled, it proves we need to work together on this. However there comes a time when just talking about the issue isn't enough. It's time to get our hands dirty, so to speak, and physically examine the zee. You knew all along this is our ultimate goal, so...” Colonel Lange lectured then left the question unsaid.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Padma, the de facto leader of the magi group.

“Despite all I said, you do have the option to leave,” the commanding officer said. “We can take you back to where we first met, thank you for your time here, and you go to wherever you think you can be safe. No hard feelings on our part.”

Natalie winced when she saw the reactions of the magi. The majority appeared nervous at the suggestion. Although never spoken about, the magical people quickly learned that, except for those captured for specific purposes, the island remained free of zee. Since they began arriving two months ago following a month when Padma all but exhausted all of her contacts within magi community, the three men and the doctor gradually relaxed. Whereas once they would start at the slightest sound, the quartet of newly arrived magi began to sleep through the night. Natalie understood all the signs of post traumatic syndrome. Two of them required sessions with a therapist brought into the fold after a week of intensive briefings. Doctor Stout played a significant role in that respect as well. It helped, and the magi calmed. The stories they shared regarding their lives after the zee invasion completely equaled Padma's

“No? You feel safe here?” The colonel questioned them. “So then let me ask you this: why in the hell would we jeopardize you after going to such lengths to secure your safety?”

“Colonel,” Doctor Stout said in her quiet yet oddly authoritative manner that rivaled Colonel Lange's, “Would you be comfortable being put into a lion's cage even though a trainer, several even, were present knowing the lion really wanted to eat you before all others?”

“I take your point, Doctor Stout, and I have all along. To be perfectly frank and honest, I am at my wits end. We're racing against a clock that when, not if, it strikes midnight we all lose. All of us: magi and normie alike. I've tried to impress upon you and your colleagues the importance of the work we need to do.”

Doctor Stout nodded her head. Padma found the woman working in an aid camp in the Brecon Beacons outside of Abergavenny, one of the hardest hit areas for the magi since the indescribable army of undead that swarmed out of Cardiff immediately headed north and west. Doctor Stout, a fully trained magi healer, worked in private practice after the magi wars just before the turn of the millennium. The tall, somewhat willowy woman with long nearly completely gray hair conducted herself in a reserved manner. During her vetting, the woman talked about losing a patient in an extremely unusual way, but would say no more. Padma seemed to know, but magi custom held it impolite to discuss the failure of others. What they got in Doctor Stout, a title they conferred upon for her training and years of experience, turned out to be worth its weight in gold.

“And we take your point, Colonel Lange,” Doctor Stout rejoined in her calm, detached manner. “May I ask: have you ever seen a magi turn into a zed... or even a muggle?”

“I've seen film footage, but not directly, no. I rarely served on the front lines,” Amanda Lange truthfully answered.

“It takes about an hour in a muggle depending on the undead that attacked, but one of us can turn in a matter of minutes and no more than ten. The worse part...” the doctor said and leaned forward, “is that anyone of nearby can feel it happening. It twists inside of our minds. Now, imagine that going on with dozens, maybe even hundreds of people around you? Is that something you'd like to share in?”

“You can actually feel it?” Major Garner spoke for the first time.

The magi to a person grimly nodded. They all experienced their kind turning into a zee. They looked haunted and for good reason.

“So before you go calling us coward or think we're not trying, you need to understand what we go through,” Doctor Stout said. “It eats at our brains. We can feel the person dying... losing whatever it is that makes person human die and become... perverted. These zed give us nightmares when too many are around. We can feel their hunger... their want... for us... for our magic. It's horrible...”

“When my sister turned,” Michael Corner said in his dry voice, “she fought so hard, but this... these spell ate her from the inside out. I could feel her slipping away, turning into a monster as everything – everything! – she was got taken away and the undead thing got left in it's place. The worst part... the absolutely worst facking part of it was I couldn't do anything to save her, even help... or ease the pain I knew she was in. So every time I see one of those damn things, all I can think about is all the people I saw turn into one of them. It makes me remember. It forces me to relive the memories.”

“And this is true for all you?” Colonel Lange asked and sympathy infused her words.

The magi nodded in silence. Tears spilled down Padma's cheeks. Teddy appeared ashen and gray, and not by choice or his innate abilities. Adrian seemed to sink into himself. Doctor Stout pursed her lips and looked rigid. The group exuded pain.

“Every time you ask us to near these slaggers, we get to relive all of those deaths again... and again.. and again. We can't stop it. When they stare at us with those dead eyes...” Michael continued and then stopped.

The man, the magic theorist, seemed frozen. He gazed into the distance, and it became obvious scenes flashed before his eyes he otherwise would care to forget. Padma located him, after consulting with some old friends who taught at the school of magic where he might be found. The Ministry of Magic kept Michael Corner on a watch list because of his research into the nature of magic. The normies got told such explorations could quickly transform an otherwise sane wizard into a dark wizard over time. Michael literally squirreled himself away into a large tree he petrified in the South Downs National Park near the village of Ducton. Padma reported the tree appeared live and healthy, and it proved very difficult to find. In the upper branches Michael created a rather impressive tree house and used the trunk of the tree as the means of entrance and egress. He used the roots of the tree, also petrified, to protect his research rooms and library. Of all the magi, it took Padma the longest to locate and convince the man to join them. Only the promise he would get to work with a muggle physicist enticed him out of his unusual lair.

“Did you ever think of sharing this... effect with us?” Colonel Lange asked, and her frustration showed.

“We did,” Padma quickly rejoined.

“They did, Amanda,” Gerry Garner intoned. “We thought they were being figurative or... euphemistic. We never... not literally!”

“We'll talk later, Gerry,” his commanding officer said in a cool manner. Then she turned back to the magi. “Is there anything we can do to reduce this effect?”

The magi glanced at one another, except Michael who appeared trapped in his horrible memories. Padma shrugged, as did Doctor Stout. Adrian Pucey stared at Teddy who, when the scrutiny continued, frowned at the man.

Adrian then looked at Padma and said: “What about scramblers? I know a few lycan who use them when the full moon gets near to keep from reacting too early.”

“Scramblers?” Natalie asked. Padma explained as much magical theory, and Natalie tried to keep the sometimes abstruse knowledge organized.

“You, um...” the woman said and sighed. “You have a name for them...”

“Geodes,” Adrian supplied the word.

“Yes, geodes!” Padma repeated. “The crystal formation inside the geodes confused the paths magic likes to travel. Ever notice how they sparkle even with very little light?”

“I thought that was reflection and refraction from the surfaces...” Natalie began to say but the look her magi friend gave caused her to stop. She understood it to mean Natalie failed to take the nature of magic into account.

“Good idea,” Michael Corner said and snapped out of his dour reverie. “If we had enough, we might be able to neutralize their radiant effect.”

“Do you understand there is an entire fundament of knowledge we don't have regarding... magic and you?” Colonel Lange intruded.

“And do you realize that's on purpose?” Doctor Stout flatly returned.

The colonel blinked at the doctor in surprise.

“Every time muggles figure out there are witches and wizards or anything we can do, that's when the fires start to burn. In every part of the world there've been purges against our kind, and it always starts when some muggle gets too much knowledge about us. You use it against us without fail,” Doctor Stout dryly intoned.

“It's why my gram called me a traitor and got angry when I agreed to come here,” Teddy said. “Not sure I've a home to go back to when this is done.”

“She'll get over it when she sees what we've done to the zed,” Padma assured him.

“Colonel Lange, can you give us assurances the knowledge you gain about us through this research won't be used against us? If not, then Teddy's grandmother is correct: we're all traitors to our kind,” Doctor Stout queried and commented.

The three muggle military officers glanced back and forth between one another.

“Ah, you can't. You're hierarchy prevents you from giving us any guarantees. The Ministry sometimes suffered the same fate.”

“Should we even be here, then?” Adrian inquired of the three other magi.

“Wait, wait. We're getting pretty far ahead of ourselves,” Colonel Lange said in reaction. “What we are doing here will save both of our worlds!”

“Then what?” Michael asked and narrowed his eyes. “Do the witch hunts begin anew?”

“No one said...”

“You're kind always labels us a threat even though we've done everything we can to stay out of your way,” Doctor Stout added.

“Hold on, how did we get onto this topic?” The colonel verbally flailed. She turned her head from side to said to get the opinion of her junior officers, each of whom looked as puzzled as her.

“Maybe we need to abandon this and do our own research, I've got some places nobody know about...

“Now just one goddamn minute, Corner!” Colonel Lange grunted. “We're offering you a safe haven to help up understand this threat that, let's be honest, affects you more than us...”

“Except when we're all gone and they turn on you,” Adrian grumbled. “You're doing this more for yourselves than us.”

“That's not fair!” Natalie blurted. “Yes, there's some ugly history between us, but that's because we've never got the chance to really understand you!”

“But each time you did, you used it against us,” Padma calmly inserted. 

“Padma, do I strike you as someone who would act against you?”

“No, but Savini does... and, sorry to say it, Colonel Lange, but I'm not all the certain about your motives.”

Colonel Lange looked like Padma slapped her.

“Now see here: you came to us,” Lange thew back.

“Yes, we did, and as soon as we did you sent hunting parties after Dean Thomas. He explained...”

“You're people wanted him, not mine. They asked us to go after him, and don't forget you told us where he might be headed!”

“True,” Padma said and sounded a bit embarrassed. “And you're the one who kept threatening to throw him to the zed.”

“He was insubordinate!” Lange growled.

“Dean wasn't one of your troops. You didn't really have a right to treat him like that,” Major Bray said and leaned forward. “All our lives we're taught to avoid muggles. We're taught to be nice and never use our abilities against you. We get that drilled into us from birth. Are you taught to be nice to us?”

“We didn't even know you existed,” Major Garner said, but his voice carried uncertainty. “Except though fairy tales and legends.”

“Don't ever let the faeries hear you say that. They're still having a go at the Grimm's for that book of stories,” Michael piped up.

“Alright, let's not make this an academic argument,” Amanda asserted herself and authority. “How many of you are worried over what we'll do with this research if we're successful?”

To a person the magi raised their hands.

“How many of you trust us... at least the ones sitting here?”

All but Padma's hand went down, and even hers wavered a bit.

“Okay,” the colonel quietly said. “How many of you realize if we don't work together this could be the end of the human species... all types?”

All the hands went back into the air.

Colonel Lange sat back in her chair and appeared astounded.

“Colonel,” Padma said after a few silent moments. “Can you even begin to understand what a breach of etiquette it is for you to ask us to give up our wands?”

“I think I'm beginning to,” the commanding officer said. “So... is this project dead in the water... so to speak?”

The magi glanced at one another, got up, moved to a corner, and gathered into a huddle. Natalie could hear them whispering, but no discernible words slipped though. She felt a nudge on her arm and looked over at her longtime friend.

“If they leave, you know we're completely screwed? Right? We can't do this without them,” Amanda stated.

“I've been wondering about Padma's reluctance to talk about certain topics, and it makes total sense. They do seem to be as afraid of us as they are zee,” Natalie whispered back.

“Maybe they used us to get to Thomas and didn't think it'd go this far,” Gerry Garner said from over the shoulders of the two women and gave them a start.

“Jesus, Gerry, don't sneak up on us!”

“Jerk,” Natalie sniped, but grinned at her colleague. “Maybe, and look at all the problems Padma had even getting these four to agree to help.”

“Wonder what promises she made to them?” The base sub-commander pondered aloud.

“Good question,” Colonel Lange muttered. “Only one of the liaison officers went with her, and he said he got detained every place they went.”

“Have we really been that bad toward them?” Natalie questioned, but not anyone in particular. “I think we've been pretty good to them, but historically....”

“Hell, in western Africa and parts of South America they still torture and kill people even just suspected of being witches,” Amanda said in a dire tone.

“Mohammedan countries have laws against them and practicing witchcraft. I think it carries a death penalty if they can prove malicious intent,” Major Garner added.

“They just might have a point then,” Natalie intone as she nodded her head at the group of magi. “They have pretty strict laws regarding acting against us normies. Most of their wars were fought over stopping witches or wizards who wanted to rule the world... us. They're pretty serious about how they conduct themselves. Padma said some of their prisons are downright medieval.”

The trio of normie medical military personnel lapsed into silence as they watched the conclave of magi on the other side of the room. A furious debate appeared to take place among them, but not so loud as to give those witnessing the debate any clue as to the issues. Major Garner returned to his seat as the private conversation continued. Natalie felt rather nervous because she suspected the working relationship with her witch friend would be permanently altered. For nearly ten minutes the quintet of magi carried on their discussion. It became very evident they conducted a vote among themselves and reached a consensus. They broke the circle and moved to the table. The magi resumed their seats, except for Major Padma Bray who continued to stand and face the three muggle officers.

“Okay, we figured out a way to keep on working with you,” Padma told them. “First, never ask us to give up our wands again. No exceptions.”

Colonel Lange wrote down the demand in her notebook and said: “You do understand they'll be classified as weapons after this point.”

“Fine, then your people need to give up your weapons. Fair is fair.”

“That'll never happen.”

Padma simply blinked at the colonel.

“Ah, I see,” Amanda slowly said.

“Second, we conduct our research on our own without any recording devices or any muggles present. We'll report back the relevant results or whatever we discover that applies to the zed problem,” Padma told them, returning to the list of conditions.

“That will greatly slow... maybe even impede the work. Hands-on experience is the best teacher,” the colonel replied.

“Which is exactly why we have this list of requirements. We've had our experiences.”

Again, the colonel blinked and made a note, and then asked: “What about guards when you're working with the zee?”

“As long as the zed properly restrained, I think we'll be able to work without an armed contingent aiming guns around the room,” Padma countered.

Colonel Lange nodded, made notes, and looked up.

“Third and last, we want a guarantee all the data you've collected about us so far will be destroyed when this is over,” the Hindi-British woman stated.

“That won't happen. The military is not in the habit of destroying intel once they have it. Besides, what about the data you collect on us?” The commanding officer responded in a cool manner.

“There is nothing we've learned so far we didn't already know or wasn't publicly available,” Padma rejoined. “We knew about your military bases, your armies, your weapons, your wars, your international relations... all without ever stepping foot on a muggle military installation. We do watch your televisions and read your newspapers, you know. You're not as clever with your secrets as you think you are.”

“Major Bray, I am stating a fact that eliminating intelligence will never happen no matter what you say. If it means it scuttles our partnership, then it's over. We're all going to die because of it, but now it's your call,” Colonel Lange said without any sense of apology. “You can withhold data in the future, but what we have so far is ours. It's never going to go away.”

Padma turned to her magi colleagues, and the four stood up. They gathered in a huddle again and whispered like crazy to one another. What Natalie could hear centered on accepting the fact the normie military would not give up the information. She began to guess in which direction they would go. Three minutes later, the group resumed their former positions.

“We accept you are not... predisposed to relinquishing knowledge. We can't really fault you on that account since we more or less do the same thing,” Padma said. “Going forward, we respectfully request that you don't ask us specific questions regarding our communities – whatever is left – or magic. As I said, we will share the relevant results of our inquests into the zed.”

“One moment,” Colonel Lange replied when the woman said nothing further and then looked at her junior officers.

Without a word the three stood and went to the far corner on their side of the room. They drew in tightly together.

“Command will never go for these restrictions,” the colonel said.

“If they don't, the magi will leave,” Natalie told them without hesitation. “They just might have enough understanding to do this on their own now. Doctor Stout understands human anatomy as good as any of us. She's also pretty sharp when it comes to picking up on biology, especially neurology. She knows the books are out there, and all she has to do it get her hands on some. She, Corner, and Pucey might be able to piece this together without our help... and they then can leave us to die at the hands of the zee.”

Lange and Garner gaped at her.

“I was kind of afraid this day might come,” she told her fellow officers. “Padma's been getting antsy about some of the procedures they need to follow, and you've got to admit we haven't been very forthcoming in telling them why. I think her friends are really skeptical about us and what we're getting out of joint effort.”

“I thought survival of the species might be a good enough reason,” Colonel Lange grunted.

“I think it's after that they're worried about, or more likely their continued survival once the zee are eliminated. It's no secret our history with the magi isn't very good. How do we know the brass won't see them as a threat after all is said and done and move to take them out?”

“Christ, Nat, have you gone native with them?” Garner snapped out the question.

Natalie gave the man a fierce glare.

“Gerry, that wasn't helpful. Natalie is our best resource in understanding what the magi may be thinking. She's also a ranking officer,” the colonel slightly dressed down her second in command. “We're in no-win situation here. I can't say yes and I can't say no. I need options!”

Natalie and Gerry looked at one another, Natalie glared at the man again, and then at their commanding officer. Natalie wracked her brain. She could not see a way out of the current conundrum. After a few seconds, she sighed. Amanda looked at her,

“Mandy, tell the truth. Explain why you can't agree to their conditions, and then offer them a ride back to where we got them,” Natalie said in a dejected fashion. She really came to enjoy working with the magi despite their skittish approach to the zee.

Colonel Lange and Major Garner goggled at her.

“If you hedge on the truth and get caught, they leave. There isn't a single scenario I can think of, short of holding them against their will, where they don't pack up.”

“What if you asked for twenty-four hours while you contact command and explain the situation? It would buy us time and maybe the chance to talk them out of this bullshit,” the major recommended.

“I like the cooling off period,” Amanda said. “Not sure command is going to go for this at all. It's bad enough we're working in total secret, and now half the team wants a full black out except for a daily summary. That's going to be one hell of a tough sell.”

“Does command know we won't win against the zee without them? Even basic numerical data shows we're going to ultimately lose even if we use nukes, so tell both the magi and command the truth. Just lay it on the lie,” Natalie advised again.

“Okay, I'm going for a little both,” Colonel Lange said and squared her shoulders.

Both Natalie and Gerry turned and walked back to their chairs and sat. Colonel Lange went to her spot, but did not sit. She faced the magi who watched her with a variety of expressions.

“First, I want you to know I've come to respect and like each of you. I am amazed by your abilities and, more importantly, astounded by your tenacity in the face these horrific events,” the colonel said with what sounded like complete sincerity. “Second, I'm more than completely convinced if we do not work together none of us will survive this zee plague in the long run. I truly believe this is the only place on the planet that can find the means to solve this problem, but only if we remain united and focused on that goal. Third, you also know I work in a structured command system. I cannot unilaterally act outside of that that structure, so I can't simply accept your terms for your continued presence on this team without appropriate approvals.”

The magi appeared angry, saddened, and shocked depending on the individual.

“I would like to present a short-term compromise,” Amanda continued in the face of the open disappointment. “I need twenty-four hours to present this development to my superiors. I'll have to explain the historical context of your demands, and I'm not going to argue the merit of those historical facts with anyone. I truly do understand your concerns.”

The five magic users visibly relaxed.

“Please give me one full day to contact my superiors to present your conditions and the reasons for those conditions. During that time you can work under terms you outlined, but I have one of my own.”

The magi looked nervous again.

“We'll conduct a daily summary meeting at seventeen hundred hours. During that meeting I fully expect you to report the nature of your research and the outcomes of that work. Likewise, we'll report to you the work we conducted and whatever we discovered that may prove relevant to your tasks,” Colonel Lange outlined the last of her proposal. “That is the best I can offer at this time. If it is unacceptable, then... let me be the first to thank you for the brief time you spent here and to wish you safe travels as you return to your homes. It's been an honor and pleasure getting to know you.”

Natalie thoroughly approved of her commanding officer's handling of the situation. The overhead florescent lighting hummed and occasionally crackled from the presence of the magi. The five British magic users turned to face one another. A series of head nodding and shoulder shrugs followed. When they faced the military personnel again, Padma adjusted her posture.

“Thank you, Colonel Lange. I think you're being honest and fair with us,” she began and smiled a little. “I also understand the conditions around this place and the command structure. I don't think twenty-four hours is enough for you to make any headway with your superiors, so we'll give your forty-eight...”

Michael Corner and Adrian Pucey began to grumble.

“Shut it,” Padma said to the two. “I want you to know this isn't personal, honestly. It's just... I've seen how some of your soldiers react to us, and, well, quite frankly, it makes me... us nervous. I think all the officers 'ave been pretty fair with us. It's after the fact I'm worried about. Not just with your organization, but with our people as well. To tell you the truth, I think some already see this a complete cock up.”

“I appreciate your candor, Padma, and thank you for extending the time period. That will go a long way in showing your good will,” Colonel Lange responded and accepted the time period extension.

The group of people stood staring at one another as seconds ticked by. No one said a word. Finally, Colonel Lange cleared her throat.

“Since there doesn't seem to be any other questions or comments, I think we all have tasks to attend to,” Amanda said, and Natalie heard the forced congeniality. “I will notify the guards they are stand down if you decide to examine the zee... and I highly recommend you do.”

“Yes, of course, Colonel, and... thanks.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot dismiss the armed escort. It's standard protocol for all non-military personnel on base,” the colonel informed them. “It's non-negotiable by the way.”

Although the quintet of looked a bit distressed, none vocalized a complaint. Amanda Lange then nodded. With that the meeting adjourned. The magi peeled away from the table and left the room. One guard followed as required. The colonel sat down and stared at the notebook wherein she took notes. The silence persisted.

“Mandy?” Natalie inquired with the name.

“I have no idea how I am going to present this,” Colonel Lange confessed. “I've got three generals and one admiral who already think this is crazy. The Joint Chiefs only got a partial briefing because Newcomb did not want to reveal everything... they'd've thought he lost his mind.”

“Maybe you should talk to him first,” Gerry suggested. “He's been one of the biggest supporters of this effort.”

“I don't know, Gerry. As soon as he hears what the magi want, he's going to sour real fast. He might order them into protective custody...”

“And that's exactly what we don't want,” Natalie instantly interjected. “That'd start a war between them and us.”

“I know, and I sure as hell don't want to be on the receiving end of those wands. Three of those people already fought in one pretty nasty wizarding war and they managed to survive the zee invasion. Not sure this base has enough soldiers to stand against them... and how the hell does anyone expect us to stop them if they decide to apparate? Dean Thomas up and disappeared and only left a note saying he was leaving.”

Both Natalie and Gerry listened intently and studied their friend and commanding officer. Amanda rubbed her face with both hands. It showed the stress under which she suddenly found herself. Natalie discovered in the past few weeks discontent brewed among the magi based on what Padma told her. She admonished herself for not telling Colonel Lange the extent of it. In some respects, the lieutenant colonel felt partially responsible for the events in the meeting.

“What happens if they leave?” Gerry asked one of the more salient questions.

“How well do you know magic?” Amanda asked in return.

“Just the theoretical basics, I guess.”

“Well, maybe we can concoct a theoretical solution to the zee,” the colonel replied with acerbity.

“Then we're pretty much fucked, right, Mandy?” Major Garner grumbled in response.

“God, Gerry, sorry,” the woman said in a tired voice. “I'm frustrated and I don't mean to take it out on you, but I fear you might be right. If magic created these things, only magic can stop them. You may think they can conduct their own research, Nat, but our knowledge of human body surpasses theirs by a long shot. It would take them years to acquire sufficient medical data to come up with an effective solution.”

“So we are fucked?” Natalie inquired without any acrimony.

“Do you think you can talk Padma or her team out of this? You have the best relationship with them, Nat.”

“Unlikely. I see both conviction and fear in them. I think the magi are only marginally more afraid of the zee than they are of us,” she told her superior officer.

Colonel Lange shook her head and said: “How could we miss this from the very beginning. I guess I should've been talking to them more instead of leaving the PR bit up to you, Nat. You did great, but... part of my responsibility as well.”

“I had a suspicion a few weeks ago, but nothing solid to go on,” Natalie admitted her sin. “Padma just started to seem... more guarded once the others arrived. I know they said things to her, but... I couldn't find out what.”

“So we're all to blame. Call it optimism they'd simply go along with the game plan. I never really expected they'd have reservations.”

“Maybe it's 'cause we don't have any knowledge of that history.”

“Even if we did, Nat, would it make things better? Can't say the world was looking too improved before this zee thing got started,” Gerry contended.

Natalie shrugged.

“We can play the what if game later,” Colonel Lange told her subordinates. “Right now we've got to figure out a way to keep them here and keep them happy.”

“What if command says to let the magi go?” The major questioned.

“Then I might just go with them.”

Natalie heard the defeat in her commander's voice. She knew Amanda Lange wholly believed the project to be the only viable means of bringing the zee plague to an end. Given what they witnessed in Dean Thomas' memories regarding another man's memories, the weirdest form of hearsay she ever experienced, her colonel's beliefs seemed well founded. Natalie sighed in much the same fashion as her friend.


	2. Chapter 2

In a little over three months Ronin went from standing on a small mountain in Scotland to being surrounded by real mountains in India. He and Dennis managed to travel through some of the most zed-infested territory he ever saw, and Ronin guessed the nightmares would last for years. The death and destruction he witnessed in Edinburgh and other parts of his home country paled in comparison to what occurred on the European continent and into the Middle East. Millions upon untold millions of zed walked unchecked throughout every region in which the two wizards trod. At the moment, they huddled on the edge of precipice overlooking a ramshackle muggle military operation somewhere in India. The cold wind whipped around them since they lay situated in the Himalayan Mountains.

“You really think he's down there?” Ronin asked and huddled deeper into his overcoat.

Dennis bobbed his head but did not speak or break his gaze. He folded the map the man enchanted to help find Dean Thomas, stuffed it into his inside jacket pocket, and studied the situation below with focused intent. Ronin knew better than try and break the man's concentration. For nearly a year he walked along side and fought next to his friend. Dennis successfully led them through encounters because he surveyed and planned. When he did not or if he held his counsel, events could take heartbreaking and horrifying turns. In the end, Ronin trusted Dennis' instincts without question.

“Do you remember what that ghost said outside of Jurm?” Dennis asked a few minutes later.

“You mean the part about following the trail of dead soldiers or about places where the dead get caught in the rocks?” Ronin answered in a question-like manner.

Of all Dennis' specialized abilities, the fact he easily communed with ghosts became more impressive the further into zed-held territory they traveled. Ghosts sometimes sought him out. Dennis and the departed often shared information, and Ronin began to realize the tactical advantage it gave them. One aspect began to trouble Dennis along the way: he never met a single ghost who originated from a living person transformed into one of the undead. Only those who got killed first and then their dead body reanimated ever returned as a spirit. Dennis could not answer why it happened like that, but it clearly nagged his thinking.

“Kind of, but... the bit about... walking... treading...” the man with hazel eyes and a mop of strawberry-blonde hair on his head stuttered words.

“Hang on. You mean...” and Ronin concentrated for a second before saying: “Only ground hallowed by blood can offer answers. The men in green, killers of death, look for the source. The black sorcerer guides them.”

“Yes, that part!” Dennis rumbled with apparent happiness. “Now what the hell does that mean?”

“The man died in the eighteen-forties, so I have no idea. I get the part about hallowed by blood, but looking for the source?”

“Ro, he overheard groups of soldiers, modern soldiers, talking, and he made sense of it as best he could.”

“Okay, so we know the men in green are soldiers, and we've shadowed almost a dozen little armies. I don't know what war they're fighting, but it sure as hell isn't against the zed,” Ronin spat.

They saw companies of soldiers no longer attached to an army who went rogue. They looted and pillaged small towns and villages, generally in search of more petrol for their vehicles, but some held no compunctions against killing innocent people. Dennis and Ronin constantly checked one another from acting rashly when they witnessed such incidents. They reminded themselves of their primary mission and that magic often did little to stand up to gunfire.

“And do you really think the source he mentioned really means the source of the zed?” He finished.

“What else could it mean?” Dennis said and shrugged. “It looks like they gave up fighting the zed a while ago. The can't win in the lowlands ‘cause there's too many zed and the zed don't usually stagger up this far into the hills once they fall down them, so what the hell are these troops doing in the mountains and heading northeast? They have a goal. They're moving toward something, and all in the same general direction. It's like their leaders are hedging their bets and sending out as many reconnaissance parties as they can.”

Ronin could not refute the logic, but he also kept mind it got based on a lot of speculation.

“Plus he had to be talking ‘bout Dean when he called someone a black sorcerer,” Dennis added.

“What if he meant dark wizard?” Ronin challenged yet again.

“Ever see a dark witch or wizard work with muggles?”

That argument resolved itself.

“Now, is he being held prisoner or is he actually working with them? Think you can sneak in there?” Dennis asked.

Ronin snorted in frustration and said: “We are not using that tactic again. It almost got us killed by the Peshmerga!”

Dennis glared at him. Ronin returned the glare. As one they turned to look at the camp to try formulating a plan. Ronin shifted his position since he knees started to ache. He long since abandoned feeling awkward about wearing the clothes of the dead they scavenged along the way, but the boots he took did not yet have full flexibility, and crouching for too long it made his knees hurt. He glanced at Dennis and realized the man did not appear very close to what he did when they first made it to France a little over a week after leaving Norwich, five weeks after departing Maella Cala. Oliver, Mysie, their children, and Rose begged him not to depart with Dennis. However, Ronin felt drawn to assist Dennis in his self-appointed quest to locate and help Dean Thomas. He never forgot the death of Katie Bell drove the man.

“Then what do you suggest?” Dennis harrumphed.

“We watch and wait ‘til we can figure out what is going on down there... and stop being a prat about it, Denny.”

Dennis flashed him an angry glance for a moment. Two seconds later he softened and said: “I suppose you're right. It just feels like we're so close to finding him!”

“If you go off half-cocked like you did in Madyan...” Ronin warned and did not need to complete the statement.

In Madyan, Pakistan, they got confronted by a group of Mohammedans who happened to count a shaikha among them. She recognized Dennis and Ronin as western wizards. Dennis, cranky and irritable after fighting zed for most of the day, did not take kindly to being halted by the group. One of the Pakistanis drew a sword as a warning, and Dennis took it as a direct threat. Not only did a sword fight ensue, but the shaikha tried to use magic to control the situation. Dennis, seeing the shaikha aimed at Ronin, backed up and hit her so hard in the face with elbow it knocked her out. All manner of chaos erupted at that point. It fell to Ronin to apparate the two of them to an overhead rock formation, and then continue to disapparate until they got safely out of the region.

“I didn't start it,” Dennis mumbled.

Ronin did not take the bait, he then scanned the surrounding area, and asked: “See any place where we can get out of the wind? It's going to get radge fierce.”

“First, stop copying your brother's... slang...”

“It's Scottish, and I am a Scot, ye ken.”

The smile that curled the edges of Dennis' mouth made Ronin grin as well. He tried to avoid Scottish jargon or slang when in non-Scottish company since it could severely hamper conversation. Oliver, Ronin's brother, who lived nearly all his life in Scotland, even when playing for a minor league quidditch team, seemed to revel in the highlands vernacular. Even Ronin found him difficult to understand at times when he got carried away or imbibed too much.

“And, second, I think I saw a place over there where we can get some shelter and still keep an eye on this place.”

Since neither could say for certain zed did not lurk somewhere nearby, the two carefully crawled along the crags and rocks until they reached the position Dennis noted. While not perfect for surveillance since the ledge face rose toward the sky, it did offer a wind break. They took turns lying just at the edge of shelf and watched the camp down below. Hours passed, the wind blew, it got colder, night began to descend, and then the temperature really began to plummet. Since they could no longer see who moved about the camp, Dennis and Ronin huddled together under their combined sleeping bags. Under the covers they used their wands to generate warmth. When the temperatures went below the freezing mark, they ducked their heads inside their makeshift tent.

“How stupid would it be if we froze to death?” Ronin said and silently prayed it would not get any colder.

Dennis gave him a baleful look and replied: “We'd still turn into zombies, but immobile ‘til we thawed.”

“Is there any way we can heat up the rocks under us?”

“Only if we want to draw a lot of attention to ourselves, and I'm not talking about the people down below.”

“And the wands right now?”

The two friends eyed one another for a second, and then doused their wands. In the dark under the covers the moved closer together. Ronin tucked the edges of the sleeping bags in around his body, and Dennis did the same. Neither could see a thing, but the double layer of covers did keep them mostly warm.

“Still glad you decided to tag along on this trip?” Dennis muttered into the dark nether of their little world.

“You'd be dead by now without me,” Ronin answered.

“Probably,” the de facto leader of their team muttered. “But, tell me, is this how you expected to spend your days at the end of the world?”

Ronin sat in silence for a second before he said: “I'm doing this so their won't be an end of the world. Katie believed Dean knows something about all of this.”

“She never said that,” Dennis rejected the statement.

“Maybe not, but she implied it.”

“How?”

“Well, Hermione laid it out bare,” Ronin said in defense when he realized he could not back up his claim about Katie.

“Look, even Hermione didn't know what Dean knows. She didn't even know he had Ron's memories at first,” Dennis rejoined, recalling part of the meeting that drove them into the Middle East. “What I don't understand is why they let Dean go after they caught him. Didn't that seem strange to you?”

“I still get the feeling she was being more than a bit dodgy about all of this. It didn't seem like she told us everything,” Ronin darkly mused in the dark of the night.

“Well, she is Ministry.”

“Still, you'd think she'd give us something a bit more to go on besides ‘If I felt like wandering about, I'd head for the border between India and China.'”

“Ro, I think that's all she knew.”

“Horse shite!” Ronin spat. “Come on, Denny: Hermione was the best witch in her class... better than any wizard in her class, too. Shacklebolt leans on her a lot and didn't even give her a real break after Ron got killed on that mission. You know Hermione's next in line for the Minister spot, and that means she keeps information. She's thick into this, and I'd be willing to bet my left nut she knew a lot more than what she told us.”

“Pretty big wager you're making there, Ro,” Dennis replied and failed to keep the humor out of his voice.

Ronin nudged him with his shoulder and replied: “You know what I mean.”

“I'm not saying your wrong, but I really do think she told us everything she could.”

“That's not the same as everything she knows.”

“True.”

The two slipped into silence. Ronin refused to believe Hermione Granger-Weasley presented them with all they would need to know to complete the task before them. She never overtly directed them to take on the mission of finding Dean Thomas, but she seemed exceptionally eager for them to volunteer. Dennis, Ronin understood, reacted from the guilt he felt over Katie's death, and Hermione stated she did not believe anyone should be blamed for the tragic event. They did not precisely volunteer, but stated they already took on the duty before arriving in Norwich. Hermione accepted their not-quite offer. Ronin found it disturbing the woman would not divulge under what conditions Ron Weasley, her husband, and Harry Potter got killed. She did not deny they died because of zed. In the end, she encouraged them head toward the Middle East and the border between China and India.

“What're the odds Dean knows how Ron and Harry died?” Dennis mused out loud several minutes later.

“I was thinking along the same lines,” Ronin admitted. “Katie did say those were Ron's memories, and Dean had to get them before Ron died... so it just feels like it's all connected. I just can't figure out how the zed factor into this.”

“Same here, but Hermione didn't say they died because of zed.”

“No, but she didn't say it wasn't.”

“We got suckered,” Dennis sighed.

“No, you were going to do this regardless of what Deputy Minister Granger-Weasley said,” Ronin quietly stated. “We only went there to get information, and I don't agree we got tricked into this. Hermione took a pretty good measure of us before discussing Dean. Did you notice how she reacted when we told her about Katie's death?”

“Katie was probably friends with Ron and Harry since they were on the quidditch team together, so that might explain it,” Dennis said in the dark of their contrived tent.

“Denny, not that. She... watched you as you described what happened in Crieff. You didn't hide your emotions about it,” said Ronin.

The other man sitting in the dark did not respond.

“I think she picked up you have an overblown sense of responsibility.”

“I do not,” Dennis grumbled

Even in the dim confines Ronin leveled a gaze a Dennis and let the silence speak for him.

“Maybe,” the man conceded a few seconds later.

“Regardless, the first thing we have to do is confirm whether or not Dean is down in that camp, and then figure out a way to contact him,” Ronin said, returning to the main issue that brought them so far into the Himalayan mountain range.

“We are wizards, you know, so that shouldn't be too hard.”

“And the zed?”

“What about the zed? It's not like those people down there aren't armed up to their armpits. They've got more than enough firepower to take out a couple of hundred zombies,” Dennis rejoined, and then started to chuckle at the absurdity of his response.

“You know you've gone totally mental, right?” Ronin inquired and snickered.

A new silence resumed, but it tended toward presaging sleep. Ronin let out with a huge yawn. It triggered one in Dennis. Even in the dark yawns proved infectious. After sitting in the dark and quiet for a few minutes. Dennis nudged Ronin with a shoulder.

“So, ah, I'm going to try and get some sleep. Don't know how well it'll work sitting up, but I'm really knackered,” Dennis told him in a sleepy voice. “Night, Ro.”

“Yeah, night, Denny. Mind if I lean against you a bit?” Ronin requested.

“Um... sure, okay,” but Dennis' reply did not sound entirely heartfelt.

Ronin took the hint, and he easily guessed as to why his friend did not sound entirely obliging. He checked around the edge of his body make certain the sleeping bags remained snug. Once satisfied, Ronin let his head slump forward and allowed his body to relax. As he debated whether he would fall asleep in his current position, the world gradually became darker and quieter until he lost track of his thinking.

Aside from the overwhelming urge to urinate, the sensation of pins and needles afflicting both his lower legs jerked Ronin awake. He discovered the added weight of Dennis curled up in his lap, over whose body he slumped, cut off the flow of blood to his legs. He thumped his friend on the shoulder.

“Dammit, Denny, get off me!” Ronin commanded.

Dennis sat up in a start, dragging the warm sleeping bags off of them. A light snow flurry descended from the gray early morning sky. A cold breeze swept around them, carrying away the delicious heat trapped in the coverings. It frustrated Ronin even more, but he used the opportunity to try and stand. Dennis' head snapped back and forth as though looking for the danger that assuredly must be the cause for his getting awoken. Ronin felt no pity for the man as he staggered around, stamping his feet, and trying to get the blood circulating again. The painful tingling in his calves grew worse as he succeeded. He then went wobbling off to find an out-of-the-way place to relieve himself.

Fifteen minutes later after both he and Dennis saw to their morning necessaries, they reconvened where they left their packs sitting. After shaking off the snow from his sleeping bag and blanket, Ronin tightly rolled them and strapped the bedding to the underside of his pack. Dennis performed the same ritual. Then the two fished out their breakfast. In the preceding weeks, Ronin lost his taste for the highly nutritious and compact protein bars the scavenged in France. The bars served to keep them going, but it paled in comparison to the wonderful fry-ups Oliver, and sometimes Mysie, made for them while staying at Maell Cala. He especially missed the sausages. That reminded him of The Midnight Owl in Norwich, and he stomach growled in complaint. Protein bars simply did not have the same flavor. Ronin also desperately missed coffee. While grateful for the water, he would love to conjure up a nice, hot cup of java.

“Honestly, we can't do one simple cook-out for breakfast?” He complained to his memories.

“And the smell of bacon would attract attention depending on which way the wind's blowing, and the magic might be a breakfast signal for the zed,” Dennis automatically replied.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once they completed the strangely filling but unfulfilling meal, they perched on the rock ledge to spy on the camp once again. The snow continued to trickle out of the sky and lightly coat them. At twenty minute intervals, one or the other would get up and walk around to circulate the blood and warm up. Ronin could not begin to comprehend how Dennis showed no signs of freezing to death as he kept watch. Throughout their adventures since they joined forces in Scotland, the man appeared impervious to the weather. When he thought he might lose his legs to frostbite, despite the thermal underwear he wore as they entered their third hour of surveillance, Ronin retrieved his sleeping roll and covered up. It helped quite a bit. It surprised him when Dennis followed his lead. Feeling better, they kept closer watch. High noon approached.

“That's got to be him,” Ronin said and pointed down to the camp where people walked between temporary buildings and tents surrounded by fence and barbed wire.

“You can make out his face from this distance?” Dennis impishly questioned.

“No, but here is how I reckon it's got to be Dean,” he retorted, cleared his throat and said: “First, there are only three black people I've seen so far, and I think one of them was a woman. Second, of the two possible men, one is almost too thin to be in the military, and Katie said Dean turned into a stick-man. Third, the taller, skinny one isn't wearing an army uniform. Since we don't join muggle armies, I figured only a civilian could get away with civilian clothes.”

“Damn, you beat me with that last bit about us not joining muggle armies!”

Ronin smirked.

“Just so you know: I happen to agree.”

“Ah, I got that, Denny,” he drolly remarked and rolled his eyes. Following the sarcastic display, he asked: “Any idea how to go about getting him out of there?”

“Not sure he's a captive,” Dennis quietly said while returning his gaze to the camp. “He moves about too freely, and I haven't seen anyone really guarding him. Were you thinking we should pull some daring daylight caper to spring him?”

Although he asked in a normal tone, Ronin did not miss the smart aleck intent. He rolled his eyes again. However, nothing immediately came to mind as to how they could reach Dean if, indeed, the one identified turned out to be the missing wizard. Ronin silently pondered their options.

Dennis lightly elbowed Ronin to get his attention and said: “I know you might think I've fallen off my broom, but how about if we just walk up to them and ask?”

“Did you give any thought to the fact the might gun us down thinking we're zed?”

“Well, sure, and how about if we carry a white flag... like we're calling for a truce? Zed would never do that.”

Ronin opened his mouth to argue, but then slowly closed it when he failed to generate a counter idea. Dennis' hazel eyes scrutinized him. As he thought about the simple plan, it became obvious they lacked options. Ronin though they could try apparating in, snatching Dean, and apparating out. However, a likely very angry military squad might pursue them. Then again, he mused, what if it turned out not to be Dean and they kidnapped the wrong person. Regardless of the route they decided to take, gunfire might become involved, although Dennis' plan did not invite it as openly as other possible schemes. At the very worst, Ronin privately tried to console himself, their deaths would be relative fast and painless as they got shot through the head should the people down below think them hostile. 

“I suggest we use the tee-shirt of yours you keep forgetting to scrub or rinse out. It's got to be pretty manky by now and could use some air,” Ronin agreed to the plan.

“Probably does,” Dennis said through a grin.

The two packed up their gear for a second time that morning, and Dennis located the shirt in question. Visually it looked as though it could use an airing or, more likely, fire. Finding a stick proved troublesome in the rugged, rather barren mountains. Both Dennis and Ronin thought it a bad idea to tie it to the end of Dennis' sword. Neither could see how it would serve them to walk up to a military camp waving a weapon around. Dennis located a branch further back behind their camp and stated he could not find the tree from which it came. Only scrub bushes dotted the surrounding area.

“Your idea; you lead,” Ronin volunteered his friend.

“You do realize I am going to remember that rule?” Dennis rumbled as he hoisted the flag of truce after adjusting his backpack.

The younger Wood brother simply grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Dennis shook his head in mock disbelief. They spent a few minutes before raising the flag assessing the terrain and picked out what seemed like the best path down the incline that would not send them tail over heads. Without another word Dennis began the descent toward the fenced area. Ronin followed as they snaked their way toward the compound, always aiming for what looked like the main entrance. Dennis waved the flag back and forth in a regular, steady rhythm no zed could ever manage. Small rocks took the lead, tumbling toward the lower elevation. The two men entered the plain and drew closer to the compound.

A gunshot rang out and a puff of dirt erupted barely a meter before the two. Dennis and Ronin instantly halted. They stood stock still staring at the base. Dennis, however, continued to wave the flag. Armed soldiers already ran toward the section of the gate they intended to approach. Shouting echoed toward them. The watched as a squad of men and women formed a firing line in a well-practiced motion.

“Stop waving the flag!” A amplified voice commanded them, and then apparently did so in three other languages.

Dennis stopped waving the truce flag.

“Move forward three steps?” The voice instructed the, and again a triplicate translation followed.

Dennis and Ronin moved forward three steps.

“Ask them to do the hokey-pokey,” a second but more distant voice suggested.

Dennis snorted a single laugh, but more because of nerves than from humor. However, he did find the comment funny.

“Shut the fuck up,” the first voice ordered as laughter also emerged, and then ordered the two on the hillside: “Drop the flag and walk to the fence line with your hands up.”

“Let's go,” Dennis said as he did as instructed.

The two wizards kept their hands held high as they picked out their trail and headed toward the camp. Tiny plumes of the gray dust rose around their feet from the more or less barren face of the ground. Ronin noticed his boots quickly took on the color of the landscape and became nearly invisible. It took a few minutes to walk the distance to the camp. The closer they got to the installation, the more apparent it became it could not be a regular army behind the fence. They saw a hodgepodge of different uniforms and weapons. However disparate the people seemed, they acted with a single purpose.

“Stop!” A voice, not amplified, yelled at them. “Identify yourselves!”

“Um, Dennis Creevey from England,” Dennis immediately complied as he eyed the glint of wan light off the ends of the serious looking military weapons.

“Ronin Wood, Scotland,” Ronin answered.

“What unit are you with?”

“No unit. We came here on our own,” Dennis truthfully told the inquisitor.

A buzz of voices tumbled outward from the fence.

“Drop your weapons,” the voice, a man, instructed them.

Although each hated to do it since they still remained in the open, Dennis and Ronin divested themselves of sword, mace, and knives. The sword got set on the ground instead of being dropped. The two then resumed holding up their arms.

“Where are your guns?” The man hollered at them.

“Somewhere back in Afghanistan, I think. We ran out of bullets,” Dennis informed the man.

“You want me to fucking believe you made it all the way here from Afghanistan without any guns. What'd you do, fly?”

“No, we walked most of the way. Took us a couple of months to get here from France. Copped rides when we could and kept the high ground when we couldn't,” the de facto leader of the two wizards stated and deftly left out the fact they apparated more than half the distance in small jumps.

“Why? What the fuck are you doing out here?” The voice angrily demanded to know.

“We're looking for someone. Been asking every group we've seen, and more than a couple villages helped us get this far. We're pretty sure who we're looking for is with you.”

“Who?”

“A bloke named Dean Thomas... British,” Dennis yelled back.

Two people from the assembled broke away in a sprint while the man told them: “Stand still and don't fucking move a muscle.”

“What if zed show up?” Ronin hollered.

“We'll take care of the zombies.”

Dennis nodded. Ronin, however, felt skeptical. He feared the group of soldiers might choose the expedient route and lay down a field of fire that would kill them as well. They saw numerous examples of such tactics throughout western Europe, eastern Europe, and into the Middle East. As towns and villages became fewer and far between, the use of deadly suppressive fire became the operating norm. People viciously defended themselves against anything that moved. As a result, Dennis and Ronin kept to higher elevations to avoid being shot. It also meant the zed did not easily follow or swarm in their wake. As they moved from country to country though mountainous regions, they saw tens of thousands of zed trapped between boulders, in crags and crevices, or piled at the bottom of cliff faces. Thus they learned how to use the landscape to their advantage. It aided their travel beyond measure.

The soldiers kept aim and focused on them even as the dispatched duo returned with a third person. Ronin grinned when he saw the figure. The dark face of the man stared in their direction.

“It's him,” he whispered to Dennis.

“Are you certain?”

“Positive. He was a friend of Oliver's at school. I sort of got to know him.”

The heavy latches securing the gate got unlocked. Then two soldiers and the unarmed man stepped out and slowly walked toward them. The ends of the guns never wavered.

“Ronin?” A distinctively British accent came out of the wide mouth.

“Hey, Dean,” Ronin answered and tried to sound casual. “Funny seeing you here.”

“What in the bloody hell...” Dean said and his words tapered off when he got within two meters of them. “This is totally mental!”

“Tell me about it, but Creevey here...

“Colin is dead,” Dean cut him off.

“I'm Dennis,” Dennis informed him.

“Right, right. His little brother,” the lanky brown-skinned man said the pinkish-colored man.

The men took a measure of each other. True to every report, Dean Thomas appeared exceptionally thin and, if truth further be told, unhealthy. However, his eyes did not appear dull nor his movements laggard. His clothing seemed a mishmash of various uniforms and purloined items. At the moment, his eyes narrowed as he studied Dennis. After a few long moments the man appeared satisfied.

“How in the hell did you find me?” Dean asked while reaching up and shoving down the two rifle barrels. It took some effort.

“You know these guys?” A clearly American woman inquired.

“Yeah, yeah. I was pretty tight with Ronin's brother Oliver, even though he was kind of git ‘bout quidditch.”

“Oliver... sure, he was a git,” Ronin chuckled out the words and felt relieved the rifles no longer posed a direct, immediate threat.

“Shite, but everyone knew about the Creevey's, what with Colin and that damn camera of his,” Dean said and grin split his otherwise serious face. “By Merlin's beard you two were insufferable.”

Dennis shrugged and said: “Call it a gift from our muggle heritage.”

Both Dean and Ronin let out with small guffaw.

“So these two are good?” The woman grumbled.

“Oh, yeah. Both of ‘em are wizards, so I'd go a bit easy on that gun. Might have reflecting spells on ‘em,” Dean warned.

Dennis silently kicked himself in the head for never thinking of that charm. He also got taken aback by how quickly Dean told the two soldiers about their real identities. It gave an early indicator that this group truly differed from the other armed bands. In response to Dean, the two soldiers completely lowered their weapons.

“Not a lot of zed here, but... still get stragglers and we're something of a bit of feast for ‘em,” Dean said. “Grab your gear and let's get back into camp. I think there's got to be one fierce story going on here.”

Dennis and Ronin nodded in unison. Then they stooped to retrieve their dropped weapons. All felt right with Dennis once he latched the scabbard and sword onto his belt. The weight of the blade hung happily from his hip. A quick peek at Ronin showed he felt the same as the mace swung from the belt hook.

Dean turned and led the quartet. The two guards fell in behind Dennis and Ronin, each flanking one of them, and it made Ronin feel uneasy. The positioning felt defensive to him. The rake-like figure of Dean looked odd in comparison to the soldiers. He dressed in the heavy gray-blue, sheepskin lined pants of a Sherpa, but a heavy military jacket. He also wore military boots that looked identical to the type Dennis and Ronin pilferred from dead soldiers. The lightweight, very well insulated footwear proved a serious boon in the rugged terrain. The quintet marched toward the gate.

Inside the compound, safely protected by some of the heaviest fencing either Dennis or Ronin ever saw, the myriad of soldiers proved dizzying. A mix of American, Chinese, German, Indian, and Pakistani military personnel greeted them. Dennis noticed that, regardless of uniform, they all wore an identical patch on left arm: a gold edged drab-olive shield with a green skull at the bottom, a black knife stuck in the top of the skull, and three gold lightning bolts behind the knife. It announced the purpose of company of mixed soldiers. Dean led them to a tent marked command in several languages. The trio of wizards stepped between the stationed guard at the entrance of the cobbled together building. As they pushed through the door, several people greeted Dean and scrutinized Dennis and Ronin. They continued to walk to a set of double door, and stepped in.

“What the hell do you want now, Thomas?” Asked a heavy set man, who looked either Hindu or Mohammedan, and dressed in a drab olive uniform. When he turned to face them, the Pakistani flag patch on his right should became visible.

“And good afternoon to you, Colonel Marwat,” Dean said with total familiarity. “Colonel, I want you to meet some old school chums of mine: Ronin Wood and Dennis Creevey.”

Each wizard raised a hand in greeting as his name got said.

“Allah save us. More of these witches?” The colonel asked in a strained manner.

“Wizards, and, yes, they are. They walked here from France.”

The Pakistani colonel rather expansive and prodigious eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Sir, we did apparate some,” Dennis said, and showed proper deference to the colonel.

It mildly shocked Dennis when the man nodded as though he understood, and Dennis believed he did understand. Dean appeared to move freely within the camp. He also did not hide his magical nature. Both Dennis and Ronin found it highly intriguing.

“Just wanted to let you know when you ‘eard the rumors ‘bout two new wizards in town was true. They'll be bunking with me,” Dean told the colonel.

“Are they part of this mission of yours?” The man grunted the question.

“No, don't think so.”

“We don't have room for visitors.”

“Sir,” Dennis said. “We volunteered to find Dean for the Ministry of Magic. We might actually be on the same mission.

“Don't think so, mate, ‘les you know where you are.”

“Somewhere in India,” Ronin answered. “Just south of China and not that far from Nepal if the map is working right.”

Dean's head twisted to the side and stared at him. He raised a single eyebrow in question. Ronin could not decide if he should regret mentioning the map he and Dennis magicked within an inch of its paper life.

“Speaking of which,” Dennis dryly stated when Ronin glanced at him, and reached into his pocket.

The two guards inside the room reacted by aiming their guns squarely at Dennis' head. Dennis slowly held up his hands. He looked to Dean.

“Just the map?” Dean asked him.

“I have no guns on me, and my two main weapons are on my hips,” he told the guards.

He saw the colonel nod, and the man said to him: “Slowly, witch.”

“Wizard,” Dean mumbled.

Dennis swallowed against his fear reaction and tightened his jaw to stop from giggling, proving living humans more dangerous than the undead variety. He cautiously reached into his jacket and then produced the map he stored there the day before. Colonel Marwat pointed to the large table dominating the center of the room, also covered in several maps. Dennis quickly scanned it and memorized as much as he could before reaching the edge of the table. He unfolded and laid out his map. Lines glowed, and the point where he and Dennis stood pulsed a bright blue. A green dot also shimmered. Colonel looked it over with interest.

“What does this mean?” The man inquired and pointed a thick finger at the lines and dots.

“The orange line is the path we took. The yellow one in the one we originally thought to use,” Dennis explained. “The blue dots marks Ronin and me, and the green is who we hoped was Dean.”

“How does this work?”

Dennis, and eventually Ronin, spent ten minutes explaining the various spells they used to track their position, how they singled out the specific magical signal of Dean from other magical presences (relying on some very particular English aspects), and the manner in which they estimated the size of the zed hordes when they ran across the undead. The colonel asked few questions, and Dean looked in with appreciation.

“You could do this to any map for any purpose?” Colonel Marwat inquired.

“No, there are some pretty strict limitations,” Dennis said. “The map needs... I guess you could say recharging since it's doesn't exist in a magical environment.”

The colonel nodded and said: “I will think on this. Keep them in line, Thomas. None of your foolishness or witchcraft on the troops. Understood?”

“Magic,” Dean grumbled and continued: “I will. I think we've got a lot to talk ‘bout, so we'll be in my tent mostly.”

The colonel returned to whatever he did before they barged in. He did not speak, but all seemed to know the trio of wizards got dismissed. Dean pivoted on one foot and headed out of the apparent command center. They did not talk, and Dennis and Ronin quietly followed.

“Now, what the hell brings you out this way?” Dean bluntly asked when when the got into the safe and warm confines of Dean's tent.

Dennis and Ronin shrugged out of their backpack straps, set those down, and loosened their jackets. Neither spoke while they situated themselves. Ronin found it fairly odd Dean got a tent to himself, affording the man considerable space. A bed and desk occupied two walls. A kerosene heater took up a corner, and a trestle table with a large duffel bag sitting atop it served as dresser. Dean took off his jacket, revealing a faded denim shirt, and tossed it on the bed. He invited Dennis and Ronin to sit on the bed while he took over the chair at the desk.

“Well?” He inquired to his question.

“You,” Ronin flatly stated. “We've come looking for you, Dean.”

“Why?” Dean queried in obvious confusion.

“'Cause Katie Bell thought you were trouble, and we came to help you for her... in case you really were in trouble, but this...” Dennis told him and tapered off as he glanced at the surroundings.

The remarkably thin, dark-skinned man studied for a second, and said: “Why didn't she come looking for me?”

“She would've, Dean, but... we... buried her south of Crieff after we got into a tangle with some zed,” Ronin said, taking into account Dennis' hesitancy about the subject.

“Buried...? She's dead?”

Dennis and Ronin took on the unpleasant duty of retelling the story of Katie Bell's death. Once again Ronin could see how deeply it continued to affect Dennis. The man refused to shed the idea he bore the sole responsibility for the woman's demise. Dean did not hide the tremendous sadness the story provoked in him. He hung his head as he listened. His gaunt frame shook several times as the details got revealed. When the part came when Dennis cut off her then transformed head, Dean's head snapped upwards. Traces of wetness glistened on his cheeks. The man appeared angry.

“She turned, Dean. She got bit and there was nothing we could do,” Ronin quietly but firmly stated. “Oliver took out her brain saying he couldn't stand to see her like that... and you know they were friends.”

Dean nodded. He looked deeply disturbed to hear of her death. Given what they knew of Dean's relationship with Katie, it made perfect sense. It cast a gloaming inside the field tent lit by fuel lanterns.

“We're here because of everything she told us. Felt like we owed it to her,” Dennis said barely above a whisper.

“How... much did she tell you?” The man darkly inquired.

Therein lay the second tale of all Katie related to them between Braemar Castle, delivering the elderly squibs to Delator, and the night spent in Tomintoul. Since Dean factored heavily in the story, the two men left nothing out, sometimes tripping over one another to explain certain details. Dean listened with a dour expression on his face. He neither confirmed nor denied anything they said during the entire retelling.

“That's it?” Dean brusquely intoned.

“Well, we met with Hermione Granger-Weasley at the Ministry in Norwich before we headed out,” Ronin added. “She didn't tell us much ‘cept they really didn't know what in the blazes you got into...”

“They dragged me to a muggle military compound to show my memories to a bunch of damn muggle doctors. Padma told them where to find me,” he told them.

“What? Hermione never... how did Padma know?” Dennis stumbled over his multiple questions.

“She said Agatha Wentworth told her.”

“The head of the Auror's Office?” Ronin quipped.

“Former head. Got herself killed in Birmingham trying to deal with that fucking mess,” and Dean's bitterness swept out in front of him like a tsunami. Aurors tended to be a tight-knit group. “Shacklebolt knew it was a lost cause, but sent ‘em in anyway.”

“I don't get how Wentworth would know where you're going,” Dennis queried.

“She did a ride-along when I watched Ron's memories once. Picked out a few things I missed.”

“Like...?” Ronin encouraged him even though Dean clearly wanted to be left alone to think and likely reminisce about Katie.

“Like exactly where Harry dropped that damn book,” Dean told him in a caustic fashion. “Bloody fool mission if you ask me, and now I've got to go back and finish it.”

“You said what?” Ronin blurted.

“Hermione didn't tell you?”

“I don't think she knows for certain,” Dennis said as he searched his memories. “I think she had a good guess. She knew you were heading in this direction, but she wouldn't say why. Katie sure as hell didn't know.”

Dean stared at his pants, picked at a stray thread, after Dennis spoke. He looked both distant and haunted. His dark eyes seemed to absorb all the light around them. Neither Dennis nor Ronin broke his private reverie. The silence stretched for over a minute.

“Harry and Ron got killed trying to discover who created the modus inferi. We studied how they spread across Europe, then through Middle East, and finally to here. The fact they got into the fucking flue network...”

“You do know they can survive in there?” Dennis interjected, unable to control himself since he believed the issue to be one of the more important ones.

“Sure, we figured that out a couple of days after we regrouped in Chelmsford ‘fore we decided to take back Norwich. Modus inferi kept popping up in houses without breaking in, and... didn't take much to realize they were coming in through the flues,” Dean enlightened them.

“Why didn't the Ministry warn everyone?” Creevey barked.

“Because two-thirds of the aurors got killed in Birmingham, and the ones who died took the knowledge with ‘em. I only found out through Wentworth, but I thought other people knew... and funny how it took Katie running into you guys to piece it together again.”

“This time the people got a warning,” Ronin hotly stated. “We dropped word in pub about it and told them to spread it if the Ministry didn't. We even told Hermione what we'd do. She agreed to send out an official notice.”

“Did she?” Dean skeptically questioned.

“We saw it in the Prophet when we got to Dungeness, so she kept her word,” Dennis informed him. “Ran on the headline for at least three days.”

 

“Dean, I know we threw at lot at you to digest...” Ronin began.

“You don't fucking say, eh?” The man sarcastically, and rather nastily, sneered.

“Fine, you're pissed. I get it. I was pissed when I found out one of my nieces died,” he threw back at Dean. “But at least tell us plainly what exactly you plan on doing.”

“Dammit, alright, here is what is going on,” the thin black man grated the words through his teeth.

For an hour the two newly arrived wizards listened as Dean explained the mission that took the lives of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and his role in it. They found out the reasons why Dean left the vial of memories with Katie Bell, and what caused him to return for them. Dean said he destroyed the memories so he alone would be in possession of them because he believed it protected his life. He then spoke about being chased and captured by muggle military special forces, working off of information provided by the Ministry of Magic and Padma Bray. Dennis and Ronin learned about the secret military base on Okinawa dedicated to finding a means to stop the zed plague. Moreover, Dean said they planned on staffing it with witches and wizards as well. He told of his unannounced departure so he could search for the book Harry discovered that explained exactly how the Chinese military in concert with magic users created the modus inferi, known throughout the world by various names. Without that, he told them, no one would be able to stop the zed. Dennis and Ronin sat spellbound as they listened and never interrupted.

“So now you're probably wondering what the hell I'm doing tagging along with a bunch of muggle soldiers from all over place?” Dean darkly asked as he concluded the main part of his narrative.

Dennis and Ronin silently nodded their heads in unison.

“It's an international team, just in case you didn't notice, and... I swear by Merlin I'm not making this up, they're trying to find out how to kill all the modus inferi. They didn't know much about what made them, but they made a good guess as to where it got started. I ran into them as we were all trying to get as far north of New Delhi as we could,” he explained.

“Wow,” Dennis whispered.

“Tell me about it,” Dean nearly spat out the sentence. “These soldiers saw me use magic to take down a bridge to stop the damn things from coming after me. I found out they lost almost two-thirds of their battalion trying get into northern India. They saved me, and then took me prisoner. It took a couple of weeks for me to convince them I really am a wizard. Once Colonel Marwat got that through his head, he started asking all kinds of serious questions. I tell you blokes this much: that man does not mess around.”

“I thought his religion killed magic users?” Ronin inquired.

“Maybe, but he doesn't,” Dean replied. “After he saw what I could do, he asked if I could help them. Then he told me what they were really doing, and I just about went mental. I couldn't figure out a way to get close to Bagaxiang Valley on my own, and suddenly I had a whole company of soldiers more or less heading right toward it. We really started exchanging information then, and... now I'm part of the operations. They like killing modus inferi best, but I got into all sorts of strategical planning. This is why the colonel was so keen on what you did with your map.”

Dennis leaned forward and looked at Dean's face for half a minute as he absorbed the information. He picked through the important pieces. Finally, the man settled on one component he wanted to know more about, and said: “Tell me everything about this book.”


	3. Chapter 3

For a tense week Natalie rode the line between friend and enemy with Padma Bray and the other magi. CENTCOM, or General Newcomb to be precise, took their time in responding to the missives Colonel Lange sent outlining the situation. She held true to the agreement forged at the meeting and, as a result, Padma and the other witches and wizards agreed to continue working until final orders reached the medical facility. Amanda Lange privately asked Natalie to be the liaison between the two groups: magi and normie. She complied with the request, and regretted it by the end of the first day. Neither side trusted her motives, and she could not figure out why.

“If you ask me one more favor, I am going to request reassignment,” Natalie growled at her friend when Amanda showed up at her door. The woman came bearing a bottle of wine not available through the commissary, and it bought her way into Natalie's quarters.

“Aren't we a little defensive this late in the day? The briefing ended over an hour ago,” the older woman said as she walked down the short passage to the living room. “Please be a dear and get a couple of glasses and a corkscrew.”

Natalie grumbled, but did as asked. Mainly she wanted to drink as much of the expensive wine as she could before Amanda finished her first glass. A minute later she reconvened with her commanding officer.

“You really are out of sorts, aren't you?” Amanda asked, and this time she sounded concerned.

“The magi think I'm running intel back to the normies, and the normies think I'm instigating resistance in the magi,” Natalie complained as she sat down. “And it's your fault. You never told anyone I'd be doing this, and now they think I'm a spy on both sides... and I didn't appreciate you sniping at me during the meeting when I had nothing to report.”

“You had nothing to report,” the colonel told her junior officer while easing the cork out of the bottle.

“And I have nothing to report because no one will work with me or share information, and it's your fault, Mandy!”

“You should've told me sooner.”

“I did. I told you five days ago they were withholding data from me, and you said you'd get right on it,” Natalie tersely rejoined while holding out her glass. It got filled half way, and she simply said: “More.”

“Nat, I'm sorry. I didn't know it got that bad,” the woman with the steel-gray hair said as she topped off the glass.

“Well, at least I now know you're not reading my memos. Thanks, Mandy.”

Amanda Lange looked stunned by both the words and the tone. Natalie did not suppress anything she felt and wanted her friend to understand the difficult position into which she got placed. Not only did she fail to complete her own tasks, but none of the other researchers would engage with her without explicit orders from Colonel Lange. When Major Garner began to act in the same manner, Natalie got depressed.

“I'll call a general staff meeting tomorrow, and we'll get this sorted out, Nat. I promise,” Amanda said in a stern fashion.

“None of 'em will admit to doing anything wrong. They'll say they supplied the data as fast as they could, and they'll have records to back it up,” Natalie predicted.

“They won't get away with that crap. Not on my watch.”

“Maybe I'll go work with Du Mingzhu...”

“Don't you dare, and you take that back right now!”

The colonel eyed the lieutenant colonel. Dr. Du, a world renowned geneticist, routinely tried to woo military doctors away from service and into private research. Many believed the famed specialist would be the first to unravel the zee plague. As such, Dr. Du became a vulgar term in most of the military medical corps. Natalie enjoyed the caustic reaction of her commanding officer.

“Besides, I know for a fact you have two more years left on your enlistment,” Colonel Lange primly informed her subordinate.

“Weyland would probably like to have me back,” Natalie replied.

“You are purposefully trying to rile me up. Admit it.”

“Oh, I most certainly am. Walk a mile in my shoes and tell me you wouldn't do the same thing.”

The two woman stared at one another. Natalie got one of her twice-weekly phone calls with Dillon, her fiance, the night before, and she spent nearly the entire time complaining about the deterioration of her working conditions. He tried to console her, but ran up against the limitations of what she could tell him regarding the project. The man ended up sounding supportive in a general sense, but that left her feeling unfulfilled. Thus, she decided to take it out on her commanding officer every chance she got since Colonel Lange bore the responsibility.

“I'm serious, Nat, I am going to let everyone know this sort of behavior is both childish and detrimental to our efforts. I will put a stop to it,” Amanda promised a second time.

“Mandy, this is not meant to antagonize you any further, but I really will put in for a transfer if the situation does not change. My skills are valuable and can be used elsewhere,” Natalie pressed her point one last time.

“If you recall from the papers you signed on your first day here, I can block any such requests. I can also physically detain you if it comes right down to it.”

“And that's how you want to the others to view you?”

“For Christ's sake, Natalie, stop using your knowledge about me against me. I promised I would speak to the others, and I will do it.”

Natalie eyed her friend one last time.

“You are coming close to insubordination,” her commanding officer warned.

“As we sit here drinking wine during off hours?”

Amanda slowly shook her head from side to side, and I said: “I had no idea you were this upset. I grant I should've read your memo more closely, but... CENTCOM is dragging its feet, I've got magi who look like they want to turn me into a toad, and Nyindu hasn't produced one damn thing. So, I will gladly trade spots with if you want. My life ain't a picnic either, you know.”

“Dr. Ikani is lying,” Natalie quietly informed her friend. “I saw some of the equations he's working on, and he's onto something. He's not the only one who understand calculus.”

“You're sure about that?” Amanda asked and she sounded relieved Natalie did not lob another complaint.

“He's using a few notations I've never seen before, but he's dealing with energy exchange of some kind.”

“Please make sure I'm not armed during the next briefing 'cause I just might kill that man.”

The man in question, Dr. Nyindu Ikani, Congolese by birth but who worked mainly in South Africa for most of his career, garnered a reputation as an adventuresome theoretical particle physicist. He tended to work with the high energy variety, and rumor persisted he would begin to rack up Nobel nominations and wins as his work got validated. Dr. Ikani's most important attribute came in the fact he proved to be about the only theoretical physicist willing to relocate and work on a project no one would explain to him due to security restrictions. That seemed to peak his interest. When he arrived, read the paperwork and signed, he almost acted like a schoolboy as he dove into the new realm of energy theory. Unfortunately, he would not share results even after two months of steady research. Dr. Ikani demanded a lot of resources both on and off the base, and that only served to further anger the base commander. Natalie believed Amanda Lange might be considering shooting the reticent physicist on a figurative level, but it revealed the depth of her displeasure.

“Think of how many times he's had Teddy in there. Padma complained they needed Teddy for who knows what purpose...” Natalie started.

“Did you know he tried to lodge a complaint against the magi when they requested he leave Mr. Lupin alone?” Colonel Lange told her junior officer.

“You might be amazed at how much I don't know because people aren't talking to me.”

“Please, Nat.”

“No, Mandy, I'm not complaining to you: I'm merely stating a fact. I don't know any of this except for what I hear in the halls or during the briefing,” she explained to her friend. “The only reason I know Nyindu is onto some thing is 'cause saw his whiteboard through an open door.”

Amanda gaped at her long-time friend.

“Now do you get the picture?”

“This is intolerable,” Amanda rumbled. “What does Gerry say about all this.”

“Same thing every time: I'll get back with you as soon as I learn something, and then I never hear from him,” Natalie responded.

Amanda Lange, Natalie knew full well, tended to fly under everyone's radar when it came to her temperament. She preferred a cordial working relationship over contentious friendships when on base, although she did encourage people to get to know one another. The woman always sought to find ways to expand their knowledge through combined efforts. The anger Natalie saw suffuse her friend's face made her stop breathing for a second. Amanda set down her wine glass, stood, and told Natalie she would return shortly. Colonel Lange stiffly walked out of the lieutenant colonel's quarters.

Half an hour later a summons came to assemble in the conference room of the D-wing. They used that room when discussing the results of research since it got designed as a secret compartmentalized information facility. They could talk freely once the door closed without fear of being overheard, recorded, or otherwise spied upon unless one of the research team happened to be a spy. Even though the directive did not state she needed to bring any briefing materials, Natalie brought a notebook to be on the safe side.

Inside the SCIF room Natalie found three of the five magi and all but one of the military personnel gathered. As usual, they divided into two group based on the location of the electronic equipment. Amanda sat in a chair at the head of the table. The commanding officer watched as people entered. Periodically she would look at her watch. Natalie sat one seat away from the colonel, and that drew a sidelong glance from the woman. Amanda gave her a small, curt nod. On the other side of the Colonel Lange, Major Caldwell, Lieutenant Colonel Miller, Commander Ramirez, and Major Savini assembled. The space between Natalie and Amanda would be filled by Major Garner. Across from them Adrian Pucey, Doctor Stout, and Teddy Lupin sat and appeared nervous. No one spoke, and all eyes remained glued to the colonel.

“I tell you again this is highly irregular,” Dr. Nyindu Ikani's frustrated voice drifted into the room from the hall.

Padma Bray and Michael Corner stepped into the SCIF meeting room and looked very nervous. Michael Corner kept craning his head around to look behind him. After a few moments, everyone else discovered the cause. Major Garner and an armed security detail literally shoved Dr. Ikani into the meeting room. The man's anger visibly showed. He all but snarled at Major Garner and the guard. Garner, for his part, continued to push the physicist to a chair. The man flopped into it. The major then turned and gave quiet instructions to the guard. He then went to the seat between Colonel Lange and Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins. The door of the room closed with a thump.

“Thank you all for attending,” Colonel Lange said in a calm voice, although Natalie heard a distinct edge to the words. “I know we just conducted our daily briefing a couple of hours ago, but I learned some details that needed to be addressed.”

No one missed the fact Major Garner suddenly sat up a little more erect and his head snapped toward the colonel. As a long-serving adjutant to the colonel, people often used his reactions to gauge the mood of his superior officer. Natalie made a note in her book.

“For the record, I am just receiving the answer the questions we posed about the working terms of our magi counterparts. I will address that later,” Colonel Lange told them, and Natalie thought it a clever way to both dismiss the issue and answer questions related to it. “No, tonight we are going to make a decision. A very important decision, and we will not leave this room until we do.”

“What if we have need of the toilet?” Dr. Ikani grumbled.

“Then you get to piss on yourself, Nyindu. Am I clear?”

She did not speak loud, but it sounded like a shout. The Congolese theorist sat back in his seat. Everyone else became more alert. If Colonel Lange did not capture everyone's attention beforehand, she got it at that moment.

“First, I will pose the topic and question we will need to settle, and then you're going to witness as I become most unladylike,” Amanda said and her eyes swept around the room. No one moved or spoke. “Very good. The topic we need to discuss is about disbanding the squad. The reasons are simple: you people are not working together, some of you are withholding data, and more than a few are treating important members of this team as though they don't belong.”

Major Louis Savini raised his hand, the colonel nodded to him, and he asked: “When you say disband, exactly what do you mean, ma'am?”

“Why, Lou, I thought that would be obvious. Disband means we shut down all research and everyone goes back to where you were before this fucking mess of a team got started. Any questions regarding that part?”

Savini shook his head.

“Now, as to the first item of the topic,” Colonel Lange continued as if she did not just scare everyone in the room. “The purpose of this team, as you all should know, centered on finding a way to defeat the undead or zee or zed or whatever you want to call these abominations. We learned they got created through the use of some impressive and, let's be honest, terrifying use of magic. That's why we have magi on the team. That's your area of expertise.”

The woman glared at all the magi who became instantly discomfited.

“The other part of the team, the non-magical or normies or muggles or whatever the hell you want to call us, were to use our considerable amount of knowledge about how the human body operates to figure out the best means to eradicate spells from the bodies of the zee. That was supposed to be our area of expertise,” the commanding officer said and her voice grew a bit in volume as she directed her furious gaze at the military personnel.

Even Major Savini looked at anything other than the colonel. Natalie took notes to avoid drawing her friend's attention.

“Very good,” Amanda Lange said in a calm, almost sweet voice. “One person in particular has contributed nothing to this effort even though he spent two months using up just about every goddamn available resource as his disposal. He is neither magi or military, but he sure as hell is under military control right now!”

Dr. Ikani opened his mouth as if to protest, but Colonel Lange leaned forward as if daring him to speak. He closed his mouth. The physicist, dressed in various shades of blue from his navy cardigan to his cobalt corduroy pants, folded his hands on the table top and stared at those instead.

“Since I've identified the parties in play, let me outline something else I've thought about,” the senior officer continued in a pleasant manner. “You all know Colonel Jenkins and I are close friends, you know I lean on her exceptional skills quite a bit, and because of that all of you – everyone one of you, Gerry – decided to treat her like a pariah out of fear of what she might tell me something. Does anyone care to argue with that assessment?”

Lieutenant Colonel Caldwell, a mild-mannered person by any standard, looked at the colonel and replied: “This isn't an argument, but a clarification. Jenkins and I don't have any reason to work together now until we get results from the magi, Savini, and Ikani. Otherwise we might go chasing the rabbit down the wrong hole... so to speak.”

“Perhaps, Arliss, but did you explain that to Natalie?”

The man's head twitched from side to side. His thinning light brown hair waved a bit in the dry, ventilated air of the room. Natalie threw man a small smile to say she understood his position. The overhead lights blinked a bit from the apparent reactions of the magi. It lent a surreal quality to the meeting.

“I see. How many of you are going to try and use that excuse for cover?” Colonel Lange growled at the rest of the team. “Now, the magi requested they work in seclusion, and I was amenable at first. Now I can see it's just a bunch of fucking paranoid bullshit. We never treated any of you with anything less than total respect... and that even goes for Lou who can be a total dickhead at times. Jesus Christ, don't even start with those insulted looks!”

The magi began to rise to take offense, but Colonel Lange stared them down. Major Bray sat first, and the others slowly returned. The lights flickered even more. Lou Savini, who appeared outraged, also became stationary.

“The reason why I got an answer from CENTCOM regarding our new working arrangements is pretty simple: I canceled the requests.”

The magi burst out into hollers and shouts. The military personnel just looked stunned. Natalie could scarcely believe what she just heard. The florescent tubes over their heads flashed light beacons.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, go ahead and bitch all you want,” Amanda told the magic users.

“Fine, we'll leave,” Doctor Stout snapped.

“Okay, go. Where do you want me to send flowers for your funeral? 'Cause that's what's next for you,” the colonel threw back.

Doctor Stout, normally composed, wore a baffled expression.

“Sure, leave. As we kill the project right now, you can rest assured we're all going to die. Oh, and as you people have so often complained, you'll be the first to go extinct because the zee like you best,” Colonel Lange quietly intoned, and it silenced the protests. “You can try and figure out a cure for this, but you don't have the time. You understand how magic works on an operational level, but I know for a fact you don't have single clue how it physiologically works. How many years do you think it will take you to accumulate the same degree of detailed knowledge the people sitting across from you have? Will you be able to do it before the zee chew you into one of them?”

The magi doctor turned ashen.

“What you're forgetting, Doctor Stout, is that you can talk to us, the ones you call muggles. We can be reasonable. We can change. We can acknowledge we did some horrible things in the past probably based in fear, but we can learn to not be afraid. We, the living, can learn to shut down our desire to kill.”

Doctor Stout nodded in agreement.

“Good, a rational understanding,” Colonel Lange rejoined in a chipper fashion. “Do you think the same possibilities exist with the, ah, zed? Are you going to be able to sit down with them and give them reasons why they shouldn't kill and eat you? Hmm? No? I don't think so, either.”

The colonel's words dripped with sarcasm at the end.

“For us,” and Amanda turned her steely gaze on her officers, “it's also a question of time. How long before the millions and millions, let's be honest, billions of zee... an army that grows bigger every time one of us dies, eat their way through every last living normie? While we sit here worrying about whether one officer might be talking to another officer, the zee are out there massacring our brothers and sisters in uniform, and you're worried about what Natalie might say to me so you avoid talking to her? Are you that fucking stupid?”

Natalie saw Gerry Garner's head droop. Several of her colleagues looked at her with questioning gazes, but she gave them nothing in return. She felt her commanding officer's sense of outrage.

“See, we don't know what the magi know. We'll never know it. We'll never figure out the cure on our own. The same goes for the magi. You might be able to pull apart what spells got used to create these damn nightmares, but I think it goes a lot deeper than that, otherwise you'd've just up and left weeks ago. I'm pretty confident you need to understand how the spells are acting and reacting in the human system in order to properly turn them off. Now, do me a favor and tell me I'm wrong?”

None of the magic users offered a counter argument.

“I thought so,” Colonel Lange grumbled. “The big question we have to answer, now that we've destroyed this project, is how to tell the world we failed. Us! Everyone sitting in this room who could've contributed to defeating these fucking piles of walking, killing, dead meat but instead chose to be paranoid and shortsighted. What are we going to say to the world as we watch it die, as the human species becomes extinct, because we feared each other more than we feared the monsters who are wiping us out? Please, tell me.”

Amanda then folded her arms across her chest and sat back in her chair. The silence in the room started to take on an oppressive aura. Eyes shifted as heads began to swivel. No one spoke for a long time. At long last, Teddy, the youngest person in the room, raised his hand. Amanda nodded to him.

“So if we help you lot and you figure out how our magic works, what's to stop you for wiping us out?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“For starters I don't think that can happen because doesn't magical ability occur naturally in people? Padma told us how one of the best witches she knows came out of muggle family. I believe she currently serves as your Deputy Minister of Magic, and I don't think we'd ever be able to take her down,” the colonel spoke like she read a weather report.

Teddy bobbed his head while listening. Natalie tried to recall the connection between the young man and the deputy minister, but the connections got tangled due to the war with the one they called Lord Voldemort. Moreover, it seemed magical blood constantly got mixed together.

“Anyway, it won't be us who wipes you out in the end. You'll have more or less killed yourselves through inactivity and non-participation.”

Teddy's mouth flopped open when Amanda said those words.

“What I recommend is a simple message that gets straight to the point. Something like: 'Sorry, everyone, but we couldn't get along and so you all get to die because we're smart but idiots.' How does that sound for our epitaph?” Colonel Lange inquired.

“Wait, Colonel, are you saying we're really going to disband?” Commander Ramirez queried.

“That is my final recommendation to General Newcomb. We tried but personal fears got in the way. I don't see how we can get around the impasse. Instead of wasting money, resources, and all your time, I figure it's best if we just close up shop so you can go and say farewell to your loved ones who are still alive.”

“Colonel Lange, this doesn't make a bit of sense and, quite honestly, sounds a bit mental,” Adrian Pucey said in his quiet way. “If you think we're all going to die at the hands of the zee, why give on this?”

“I didn't give up on this,” the colonel responded. “I did everything I could to keep you together and working, but the rest of you wouldn't have it. Magi wouldn't work with normie. Some of my officers wouldn't work with other ones. Dr. Ikani just fucked around in his lab for two months without producing anything...”

“I beg your pardon,” Nyindu Ikani's baritone voice rolled over the colonel's words in plain indignation. “I will have you know I've made great strides in understanding how this magic works on an elementary level.”

“Bullshit, Ikani. Pure and utter bullshit, otherwise you'd've reported something to us instead of saying you didn't have complete data or only had inconclusive results. It means you don't know squat,” Amanda spat at the man. “You had two months to come up with something, but all we get from you are excuses. Even if this group manages to find a way to stay together, I'm still shipping you out of here... and don't forget you signed a non-disclosure clause that, if you violate it, means we get to execute you.”

Natalie worked overtime to suppress the smile that wanted to jump onto her face. Dr. Ikani proved headstrong on several occasions, brilliant though he might be. Amanda, she realized, found the perfect path around his constant obfuscations: she challenged both his honor and his intellect. The man turned into a bubbling cauldron on ire and resentment. His dark eyes smoldered with wrath. Colonel Lange, wore an expression of mixed contempt and disbelief. To an outsider, it seemed like fire and ice got into a conflict. Natalie put her bet on Colonel Lange and ice.

“Look, 'fore Nyindu explodes, you didn't really start the process to dismantle the team, did you?” Michael Corner inquired, and he sounded worried.

“Michael, ask anyone who's worked with me for any reasonable amount of time: if I tell you I've carried out an official act, I have.”

“But I thought you said we're here to settle a question?” Padma intoned.

“We are: what to say to the world, to our friends, family... everyone who depended on us to come up with a solution. That's why I said we should keep it simple so we can just memorize and say it whenever anyone asks,” the colonel told her.

Padma's face sagged. Natalie could see it start to weigh on the magi woman as the reality of what they faced in the future began to crystallize in her mind. No one needed to say, even though Colonel Lange did, that the magical folk would disappear first and not via apparating. The zee hunted the magi. 

“Bugger that!” Teddy suddenly blurted as his hair turned a vivid red color. “I wouldn't mind seeing my twenty-first birthday, thank you very much. Shutting us down is a load of tosh, and you can't do it!”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Lupin, but I see no point in continuing with the team...”

“What if we drop all that daft working in secret bit?” He challenged.

“That, unfortunately, is not my call to make, Teddy. Your colleagues made it very clear they don't want to work too closely with us, and you were part of that decision,” the colonel coolly answered him.

“Blimey,” he whispered and appeared to deflate a bit. “Didn't think it'd go all wobbly like that.”

The magi stared at him. When he caught site of their gazes, he frowned. The the young man with hair that looked aflame and, Natalie privately noted, a bit wolfish, turned to them.

“Look here, mates, we've gone and lost the plot on this one. 'Les we want to be totally snookered, we'd best think of something fast!” He yelled at his compatriots.

“Teddy, you know what the statute says about displaying magic in front of muggles,” Doctor Stout warned him.

“Fuck the statute,” Teddy blared in return, and he managed to make his hair turn even more crimson. “It don't say nothing 'bout zed, and what good is the blasted statute if we've all gone tits up?”

Natalie began to wonder if Amanda secretly planned to target her statements for the benefit of Edward Lupin. She repeatedly mentioned the end of magical kind at the hands of the zee, and it seemed to take root in the young man. Moreover, the visage of Adrian and Padma appeared to reflect their comrade's outburst. Colonel Lange, Natalie admitted, deftly shifted the playing field. Moreover, she thought her commanding officer to be completely correct in her assessment of the near future.

“You're willing to work against the interests of the wizarding world?” Doctor Stout coldly asked him.

“What wizarding world, Miriam? We're being eaten alive out there! There's no one left to enforce that bleeding statute!” Teddy yelled at her. “I haven't heard a word from my cousins in France for almost two years. Over half of my graduating class are dead. You've read The Prophet and the Quibbler: how many villages are gone... just gone? The don't even report it on the wireless anymore. Look at London! Great ghosts, Miriam, we're running out of witches and wizards!”

Teddy became more strident with each word, and each word seemed to hit Miriam Stout like he threw rocks at her. The other witches and wizards started to flinch as he laid out the truth. Natalie thought Teddy might go into hysterics.

“Teddy, think of the long term...” the magi doctor began.

“He is, Miriam,” Padma interjected. “We don't have a long-term future in case that's what you were going to say. The statute might've helped us at one time, but now... Teddy's right: it never could predict a situation like this. We can keep to the rules, but that only means we'll die in silence.”

Teddy's head furiously bobbed up and down as Padma spoke.

“I don't even have a shop anymore,” Adrian said, but he looked off into the distance and his dark eyes looked clouded. “I work out of a suitcase now. I don't have any galleons left. I don't have any customers. What future, Miriam? What future is the statute going to save for us?”

Natalie leaned her chin against her hand in order to keep it from falling open. To her surprise, Padma stared at her with pleading eyes. She wondered what changes occurred among the magi team in the last week. Perhaps they discovered they could not find a solution on their own. It seemed a reasonable possibility.

“We're afraid, Nat,” the Hindu-British woman directly said to her. “Everything we know is disappearing. I've got to admit being here is the safest I've felt in years. I... oh, to hell with the statute. I'll do whatever it takes to keep my people from dying out. I am so sorry I didn't trust you.”

Natalie nodded in understanding. Fear lay at the heart of so much that ruled over the lives of everyone in the room. Sometimes they forgot what to fear first and foremost.

“Right, I'll chip in, too. Whatever you want... need,” Teddy raced to say.

“I'm sorry, but it's too little, too late,” Amanda softly told them. “I've made up my mind. Too many of you don't want to work with us. This is going to take knowledge across the entire discipline of magic. Without your full team, this won't work.”

Even the military personnel gaped at the colonel. The lights above Teddy glowed as if supercharged, and one crackled as it fizzled out of operation. The one over Michael Corner also grew brighter. Natalie wondered what interaction took place. She saw Dr. Ikani staring at the lights as well, and his lips silently moved as if he read a book to himself.

“We also don't have our entire team working together. Our principle virologist and pathologist got cut out of the loop, and our physicist isn't worth shit. We don't have a complete team on both sides, so there's very little chance of success, and I'm not going to keep anyone here against their will.”

Colonel Lange did not shout or yell. She did not sound angry or ornery. Instead, the woman sounded depressed. The tone struck Natalie harder than the words. The defeatist demeanor angered her, and not at her friend. She glared at Dr. Ikani. Ikani met her look. He inhaled deeply.

“From what I've seen so far,” the man said and his voice sounded like a minor earthquake. “Magic is a type of energy we've never been able to measure in the past. This is so new to me my head swims in circles. Magic is... it is both potential and kinetic energy at one and the same time. It is miraculous. There is nothing else like this. Dr. Ramirez worked with me, and she wants to know more as well, but Dr. Savini won't talk to me.”

“It's 'cause your an insufferable prick, Ikani,” Lou Savini grunted in true Marine fashion.

“And this is why we're shutting down this operation,” Colonel Lange mumbled. “Even the professionals can't get along.”

“Savini is trying to tell me how to do my work!” Dr. Ikani loudly complained. “He does not even know the simplest of equations...”

“I can read calculus just fine. It's your equations that don't make sense. You're using a goddamn pentagram in your calculations! I swear to god some of those looked like astrology symbols.”

Natalie understood exactly what Lou Savini meant. The physicist used non-standard symbols in his work. It made deciphering the equations near next to impossible. However, the odd notations appeared too regularly in what she saw to be coincidental or some kind of ruse by the physicist.

“The symbols represent magic and the affects of magic on other forms of energy,” the physicist yelled at the molecular biologist. “The pentagram is my notation for the thaum...”

“The what?” Colonel Lange said as she cast a puzzled look at the man.

“The thuam: the smallest particle, and I am only speculating it is a particle since I cannot get any results from the electron microscopes...”

“They said you sent them contaminated, ionized samples that played hell on the tunneling beam,” Major Garner interjected.

“Not contaminated: full of thaums...”

“And what is a thuam, Dr. Ikani?” The colonel inserted the original question.

“It is the smallest magical particle that can induce a change in other forms of matter or energy. It represents the potential of the particle as well as the extent of interaction it can produced,” he answered as if reciting from a script. “A spell seems to write instructions on the potential energy of the thaum, and only when it reaches the intended interactive mass or energy does the kinetic aspect take on the attributes of the preordained potential facet and cause the transmutation in the surrounding fields, energy, or mass...” 

“Wait, you were serious about that preordained stuff? Energy is energy, Nyindu. The attributes it contains are dependent on the source and surrounding stresses,” Natalie jumped into the argument since she liked physics.

“Oh, no, Colonel Jenkins, this is where magic is much different. The spell encodes the potential energy with the configuration that, when it becomes kinetic, will execute exactly as prescribed if all the constituent parts are correctly positioned.”

“That's impossible,” Savini snapped.

“No, that is magic,” Dr. Ikani countered. “I did not believe this for myself for a long time and checked and rechecked to make certain I did not make mistakes. This is why I had nothing to report, Colonel Lange: it sounded too impossible to believe and I had to confirm my results.”

“Is that why you kept testing me?” Teddy entered into the discussion.

“Exactly. There is something inside of you that pre-configures all of thaums necessary to carry out your transgenomorphic...”

“Trans what?” Randy Miller burped out the questions.

“I had to make up my own word for it, and Commander Ramirez helped,” the physicist replied and nodded to the navy neurologist.

“Transgenomorphism is the term we coined to describe what Teddy is actually doing when he alters his appearance at will... or even when it happens on a subconscious level,” Commander Ramirez supplied the explanation. “It expresses the change happening across a limited set of genes that instantiate the reconfigurations when the magic is activated.”

“That... makes sense,” Miller muttered and nodded his head.

Colonel Lange unfolded her arms, leaned forward again, and hotly inquired: “Why didn't you tell us this is what you discovered, Nyindu.”

The stout man shrugged and said: “I did not wish to look a fool when you asked for details and I couldn't produce them. Many factors of magic I still do not understand... maybe I never will. This is very difficult to detect and the mathematical models... it even looks to me like I am making it up.”

“You are, Nyindu,” Ramirez calmly stated. “No one ever investigated this before. You're in uncharted territory, and it's why I agreed to assist you with testing Teddy.”

“Amanda, don't forget I ran over a hundred tests on zee samples to prove solanum didn't exist, so I can sympathize with Dr. Ikani's hesitation. I think he just wanted to get his ducks in a row,” Natalie said to her friend.

Amanda looked at her with a questioning gaze, and Natalie simply nodded.

“Hold on, mates: are you saying you've discovered what magic is on a primal level?” Michael Corner piped up.

“To some extent, but it is so complicated it would take years and years... decades to properly sort out. I have only – what do they say? – chipped the tip of the iceberg,” Dr. Ikani told the magical theorist.

“Does it mean you can control magic now?”

“Oh, good gracious no! There is something happening, I am convinced, on the quantum level of you people that we cannot replicate. Either one has the ability or one does not have the ability. It is, like eye color, a skill someone is born with. No amount of genetic tinkering can either create or unmake a one of you magi,” the physicist said with what amounted to certainty.

The looks of relief that swept across the collective faces of the magi halted all conversation. The normies stared at their counterparts. Padma then focused her gaze on Doctor Stout. The eldest of the magi appeared disquieted by the sudden scrutiny. One by one the other magi turned to the woman.

“Yes, very well, that answers one of my biggest concerns,” Doctor Stout answered in a small voice. “But what if they manage to make... magic deflectors or... or... cages that are immune to our...”

“Impossible,” Dr. Ikani stepped into her short list of worries. “It would take the creation of technology than can compensate for an untold number energy vectors that would, I have to say, take every computer on the planet to calculate in order to counteract the innumerable magical combinations... and that is after the hundred or so years of programming needed to create the software to run the technology, and it would be based on incomplete research that will take even more decades to finish...”

“So let's just say it's out of the question for centuries to come,” Major Caldwell decided to enter the debate. “I'm just a lowly forensic pathologist... sometimes an immunologist, and we can't even accurately predict which flu viruses are going to be the most prevalent every season. That's simple compared to what Dr. Ikani is talking about. I can't even get my head around the numbers he has in mind.”

“The take away I get from the input Dr. Ikani's research is that magic is safe from any form of normie intervention for decades to come...” Colonel Lange tried to summarize.

“Centuries,” Natalie corrected the estimate.

“I should say never,” Ikani corrected her. “The cost in energy consumption... we'd need to figure out a way to harness our sun to meet the requirements... and without damaging the sun at the same time unless we are done with Earth.”

“What about fusion reactors?” Arliss countered.

“The size of the sun,” the Congolese physicist responded. “Precisely altering the sub-atomic configuration of energy, either in particle or wave form... and that is interesting, because I think spells work like a waves carrying a pattern to impress on the thaums...”

“Dr. Ikani, I expect a complete written report on your work by the end of tomorrow,” Amanda said, and her displeasure rippled in every word. “Why didn't you ever think to discuss this with the rest of the team?”

“Thaums? A new energy.... Something I am not even close to explaining properly let alone...”

“Magic, Nyindu! We're talking about magic here,” the colonel dispensed with his dissembling. “Did you think you had to walk in here with a complete set of equations detailing every aspect you uncovered so far?”

Dr. Ikani blushed and his dark brown skin turned a shade darker.

“This is why we're a failure: a complete lack of proper communication!” Amanda huffed, but did not give anyone a chance to respond. “We've got medical professionals on one side who won't engage with one another, and think about how much further Ikani could've gotten if he just shared a little bit. Then there's the magi who are so afraid we're going to figure out all their little tricks they spend each day hiding. Corner, if you knew two weeks ago what Ikani figured out, what would you have done with it.”

“Me?” Michael Corner said in a surprised voice. “I, ah... guess I would try to figure out how... what'd you call the magic bits?”

“Thaums,” Ikani intoned.

“Figure out how these thaums act singularly and alone in a spell to create certain effects, then... then I would probably get Miller to cut open an active zed to see what's happening in the brain and attempt to pinpoint what areas the thaums are affecting the most.”

“Did you ever think about talking to Nina and maybe getting a neurological perspective on this?” The colonel bluntly queried.

“Of course I would call her in,” Miller said with an air of effrontery. “She's is the brain expert here!”

Natalie wanted to say something, but then her brain told her to sit and be quiet. Observe a master at work, she heard a quiet voice say in the back of her mind. She watched her old friend grumble and scowl at everyone around the table.

“Doctor Stout, do you have any interest in this?” Amanda barked at the woman.

“Certainly, but I'm no expert regarding the brain...

“But you do understand how a spell propagates through a person... alive or dead?”

“I can't say if a spell reacts the same in a zed as it does in a living body, but I would suspect the principles are the same.'”

“What about all those tests Nyindu did on Teddy? Would that help?” The colonel brusquely countered.

“If he would share the results and explain some of what he did, I feel confident it would yield some insight,” the doctor answered, and she appeared almost bowled over by the prospect.

“Could you explain it to her, Nyindu?” Amanda grunted at the physicist.

“The concepts, of course. The equations would be something entirely different,” he replied.

“I wouldn't need the equations, just an understanding of how the these thaum bits and bobs operate individually and together, and then determine how that equates spell operation. Pucey would be required to suss out the final product of spell interaction since that's what he really does,” Doctor Stout answered the man and everyone around the table.

“Zed are technically inanimate when the magic takes effect, so it might be like cross hexing an object. I'd have to figure out the magic proportions used to achieve the results,” the man most reluctant to speak speculated.

“This is the type of interaction I hoped would happen, hoped would figure out a way to defeat the zee,” Amanda snarled and slapped the table with an open palm.

“Hold on! You're not still thinking of getting rid of us, are you?” Teddy half-shouted at the colonel while half-rising out of his chair.

“Of course. None of you are really committed to this effort. You're not committed to working together to find a solution,” Colonel Lange dismissively said and spread her glare around the table like a person smearing jam on toast. “Who's to say that tomorrow you won't draw the same battle lines and stick you heads in the sand. I'm not going to go through this anymore. I just want to get home so I can spend what time is left with my family. I already lost an ex-husband and never got a last chance to tell him what a bastard he is.”

“General Lange is dead?” Arliss gasped out the question.

“A month and a half ago at the third Saint Lawrence defense to keep the zed from spilling out of the river from Montreal,” Amanda quietly said, and Natalie heard the hurt in her friend's voice. “Two and a half brigades got swamped, Marty... lost with them.”

“And you don't want revenge on these bloody things?” Teddy muttered the question.

“What I want and what I'm likely to get are two very different items, Mr. Lupin. I know when to cut my losses.”

“But everything we got our knickers in a twist over are gone. We thought you might be secretly trying to find a way to get rid of us when all this zed business is done,” the young man rapidly babbled at her.

“You got me wrong, Teddy. I realized early on, shortly after I med Padma and especially after I saw the Weasley memories, it would take both our sides to sort this out. It took both sides to create it, after all,” she rejoined and then stared down at the table. “I liked the fact there really is magic in the world. It made me feel young. It made everything seem new... different. Why would I want to get rid of it?”

No one answered the colonel. They sat in silence and stared around the table. Natalie lost sight of whatever possible endgame Amanda might be planning. The older woman's mood seemed to infect the room.

“No, no,” Teddy said out loud and stared at the colonel. “I lost me mum and dad to Voldemort, and a bunch of other people I did not know but who gave everything to stop him. Every month I get word more and more people I know... Harry Potter and Ron Weasley... they were heroes to me. Gone. So many people gone, and now we're not going to do anything to stop these fucking dead things. What the hell is wrong with us? Is it really that much easier to give up? Why didn't we just give up to Voldemort then?”

The looks of disgust and shock the man's statements elicited from the other magi became almost audible. Natalie only understood the basics of what got called the Second Wizarding War that culminated in the Battle of Hogwarts. However, she quickly grasped the so-called Lord Voldemort as an extremely powerful psychopath who set his mind to world domination. To even consider surrendering to Voldemort appeared to be one of the most repellant ideas a magi could utter.

“Why didn't we give up to Hitler?” Randy Miller posited in the same vein.

“Fuck off, Miller!” Savini barked at him.

Padma glanced around at everyone and asked: “Are we really going to surrender the world to the zed? Make a planet of the dead out of Earth?”

Her last question felt like a punch in the gut to Natalie, who immediately answered: “Not me!”

“Or me,” Nina Ramirez joined in. “If you were trying to get us to see past our own insecurities, Colonel, then it worked.”

“Bloody right it did,” Michael Corner agreed. “Look, I'll be the first to admit I didn't fully understand what it was you were trying to do, ma'am, but I get it now. I just didn't see how working with you muggles could help us. I see it now.”

Adrian nodded and said: “Same here. Never worked with muggles before. Always avoided them like the plague... so to speak.”

“Colonel Lange, look... alright I am a dickhead most of the time, but it works for me,” Major Savini aid. “Keeps me going. I honestly thought all this hocus pocus...”

Padma Bray and Michael Corner hissed at the man.

“Sorry, sorry. Guess that's an insult of some kind,” the Marin major stated and held up his hands. “The point is I know magic is real now. Hearing Ikani define it in physical terms...”

“It is a real physical phenomenon that requires further exploration,” Nyindu interjected.

“Can I finish one fucking thought, please?” Lou Savini rumbled. “Long and short is I'm in this now. I'm not looking at the magi like a threat. I never really saw 'em like that. It's just... a power I don't have and don't fully understand. Yeah, so I guess I was being a dick about being afraid.”

Caldwell, Garner, and Miller nodded in unison as the man spoke. Natalie started to eye Amanda Lange. It did not often happen, but she could not tell what her friend thought at the moment. The colonel continued to stare at the table and sighed a little.

“It's not that simple. I have a conference call with Newcomb tomorrow to discuss the situation and relinquishing command of the base,” Amanda told the group. “I appreciate what your saying, but I need something to convince him this effort did not fail on all fronts. I don't have that.”

As if reacting to an electric shock, the five magi suddenly bunched up together. They whispered frantically to one another. It only took a minute before they broke, and face the colonel as a group. Major Padma Bray, dressed in the oddly bright British camouflage duty uniform and wearing the unit rank insignia, walked forward half a step.

“I supposed it's a good time to tell you this,” she said with what amounted to quiet conviction. “We got word from the Ministry one of the best relic hunters we have is trying to find Dean Thomas... who we found out is going after the notebook Harry Potter found at the Chinese base. If they connect, the Ministry thinks there's a good chance they'll get the book. If they do, then we have the map of how the zed got created. Will that convince your general this project is worth continuing?”

Amanda Lange looked up, and Natalie saw a strange little smirk on the woman's face.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting into China from the village of Kuti proved easy enough if one discounted the innumerable zed staggering around crags, hills, peaks, and valleys of the Chinese side of the Himalaya Mountains. The further north they headed and descended out of the main mountain range, the more of the undead they encountered. It forced them to deviate from their original plan. In fact, the team of nine people completely abandoned their initial idea after they saw the reality of the situation. China, it appeared, belonged to the dead.

“There's no bloody way we're going to make that highway in Burang with all the zed we've seen in the east,” Dennis grumbled at his military counterparts during the evening of the first day.

Captain Desrochers and Sergeant Huber tried to disagree, but Dean Thomas received authority over them when the details of the mission got presented to Colonel Marwat. Because Dean saw the memories of Ronald Weasley, a feat of magic the trio of wizards needed to explain several times, Marwat decided Thomas should lead the group. While they argued for a larger contingent of men, the colonel would only lend six soldiers to accompany the wizards. Despite the acceptance of Dean Thomas within the military unit, the primary goal of hunting down zee and stopping the flow south into India from China remained in effect. However, seeing the numbers on the other side of the border made the squad doubt the eventual success of that order.

“Well how the hell are we going to make it north?” Dean moodily asked and looked squarely at the man with strawberry-blonde hair.

The soldiers witnessed Dennis' proficiency at planning and dispatching the undead in the encounters they faced on the first day. His sword flashed with deadly accuracy. The soldiers did not, however, understand the constant chuckling and giggling coming from him during every fight. They also respected Ronin's ability with his mace. Zee fell wherever he aimed it. Dean, unfortunately, did not possess similar skills with his cricket bat, although he proved adept at detecting and avoiding zombies. It explained how he managed to survive on his own for so long. It even spooked Dennis and Ronin on a couple of occasions when their comrade accurately predicted the location of unheard, unseen zed. The soldiers quickly accepted the three as the leaders of the band. It did not, however, put a dent in their argumentative nature regarding the operation.

“Ze mountains are our only route if we do not use ze road,” Captain Desrochers, the lone Frenchman among the soldiers who, bizarrely enough, attached himself to a German squad. He pointed to the map.

Dennis focused intently on it, and Ronin stopped the others from disturbing him. Dennis' planning capability kept the two alive as they moved from Scotland across the whole of Europe and into the Middle East. It only took one day for the soldiers to realize that of the three wizards, Dennis possessed the greatest amount of experience with open travel in hostile territory. However, they did not fully appreciate the man's need for mental isolation when picking out a path or creating a strategy.

“Here,” Dennis said after a few minutes and pointed at the map with his wand. “We can follow this gorge north, across this river, and aim for this plateau. If we come across zed, we can make for the high ground if there're too many or fight the smaller bands.”

“But zat vill extend our schedule,” Sergeant Huber argued. “Ve do not haff enough supplies for zat route.”

“It shouldn't be too much longer,” the youngest if the wizards remarked.

Desrochers and Huber glanced at one another. Behind them four men – two Americans, one German, and one Chinese – looked on. They got selected for their variety of skills. The Americans proved the most lethal with their weapons, the German came with a reputation as an excellent scout, and the Chinese knew the general lay of the land and spoke the local dialects. All the soldiers, however, complained when they learned their electronics would malfunction around the wizards. Bereft of their music devices and other distractions, it forced interaction between everyone.

“Many villages this way,” Corporal Guō informed the group in good but broken English. “Many shāngshī.”

“More than on the road?” Dennis asked and half-challenged.

Corporal Guō shook his head in negation.

“Plus it puts us in a straight line for Bagaxiang,” Dean added.

“Bagaxiang very dead,” Corporal Guō reminded them. His dark brown eyes glittered with open concern. His dark green Chinese military uniform provided excellent camouflage if one discounted the fact zed did not care about such things. 

“More dead than here, here or here?” Dennis openly challenged and pointed to the towns of Burang, Jiwusi, and Na Waguojiu.

Again the Chinese man bobbed his head.

“How did Harry and Ron make it through here?” Ronin asked as he considered the varying paths they could travel, and none looked very appealing.

“Not as many zed then,” Dean stated in an oddly bland voice, and then he pointed to spot just northeast of Huo'erxiang. “Plus Rimholdt dropped them in a valley in this area. Surprised that woman didn't get them all killed before they got there.”

Audrey Rimholdt routinely got into trouble with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in her efforts to adopt muggle technology to wizarding needs. One of her more spectacular contraptions involved converting a fixed-wing ultralight aircraft into a device resembling one the flying machines of Leonardo da Vinci's, a wizard who so flaunted his powers in the open he wound up being regarded as a genius by the muggles. Rimholdt used her magicked machine to carry Harry and Ron into China. Dennis and Ronin began to figure out why the mission became so classified and few details got released: it violated all manner wizarding law.

“Well, we don't have her aircraft, so we're hoofing it,” Dennis said.

“What about brooms?” Dean suggested?

“Got some?” Ronin grumbled.

Zed tended to attack any object that exuded too much of a magical aura. Because brooms got highly charmed in order to properly function, the undead regularly tore them apart trying to get to the magic.

“Wait, you boys actually fly on brooms?” Corporal Davis, a young man from Oklahoma in the United States, inquired in surprise. As a marksman, he frightened the wizards.

“We even play sports on brooms,” Ronin told him. “Quidditch is wicked good!”

“Here I was thinkin' brooms were only for your witches.”

Ronin smirked at the man who grinned in return. Dennis and Captain Desrochers continued to debate the route they would take while Sergeant Huber added his voice. In the end, they agreed to a modified path that would follow the small ridge line Dennis liked northward and to the east of the twin lakes instead of between. From there they would aim for Bagaxiang, and then follow the river north past the Jiuma Co loch and then to the small plateau west of Kongburong upon which they would find the base where the zed, or modus inferi as Dean called them, got created.

“Zis is a long way for us to walk, no?” Desrochers half-questioned, half-complained to Dennis.

“Oh, who said anything about walking the entire distance?” Dennis rejoined and his eyebrows raised and lowered in a comical manner.

“Hold on a sec, mate! You mean to say you want to apparate through zed infested lands? That's going to draw them to us like bleeding flies to bloody honey,” Dean said with more than a hint of shock in his voice.

“We did it Edinburgh,” Ronin countered before Dennis. “The whole city was nothing but zed, and we used the rooftops to get around. Hell, how in the blazes do you think we got from Dover all the way to here in just under nine weeks through a zed infested Europe?”

“And we lost our only gun somewhere in eastern Kazakhstan,” Dennis mentioned for good measure. “We didn't have any bullets by then, so.....”

The soldiers gaped at Ronin as he spoke. The muggle men lived and died by their firearms. Ronin sometimes questioned Dennis' aversion to using guns, but he presented three mitigating factors: guns could only hold so many rounds, effective use required a clean head shot each time, and the sound attracted more zed. Once the all rounds got expended, he argued, the weapon became dead weight since reloading would expend precious seconds. Additionally, trying to get a head shot each time proved nigh impossible, and that called back to the first point. Finally, the sound of gunfire did indeed act like a lunch bell for zed, and then the first and second points came into play at the same time. Thus, Ronin learned not to depend on firearms but rather the strength of his own arms. Dennis always depended on his skill with a sword.

“I am vundering about dis apparate? Explain, bitte,” Sergeant Huber requested.

Dean, Dennis, and Ronin did their best to explain the process of disapparation and apparation to the soldiers. Corporal Kowalski, the only female in the group and by far the best shot of all the soldiers, asked if it hurt. Dennis did not hesitate to say it could be very disorienting until one got used to it. Ronin mentioned that they tried to jump over one hundred kilometers between Edinburgh and Braemar and how it made them violently ill when they arrived. Dennis promised they would never apparate more than a two or three kilometers, or however far the best set of binoculars could see while still providing clear detail. None of the wizards mentioned splinching.

“But I'm going to warn you right now sometimes we need to appear right next to zed, so get your bayonets ready,” Dennis suggested.

“Rather shoot 'em,” Corporal Davis muttered.

“Or maybe one of us if you arrive dizzy,” Ronin said. “At least with a bayonet you can push the zed away with your rifle and not kill one of us.”

The four infantry soldiers glanced at one another, then looked to Sergeant Huber. Huber shrugged and nodded. In less than half a minute each rifle sported a seven inch-long black blade attached to the end of the muzzle. To Dennis' eyes the bayonets looked even more threatening than the barrels. However, he felt heartened the soldiers took the suggestion to heart. Even Dean appeared impressed.

“Who's got the best eyes?” He then questioned.

For the next ten minutes Sergeant Cleaves, the lone African descended soldier of the group who also hailed from Germany, got instructions on what features made for the best apparation sites: flat, wide, and preferably free of large rocks. At that point Dennis also divided the muggles up among the wizards. Since once wizard transporting eight people would quickly wear down the wizard, he decided that if the each carried two people they could manage a series of jumps before needing to rest. As he laid out his reasoning, both Dean and Ronin wholeheartedly agreed.

“Ja, ja,” Cleaves rejoined when asked if he understood all the requirements. “Breit, flach, und ohne Felsen. Was ist mit den Toten?”

“He understands, but vhat of den dead?” Sergeant Huber responded as he translated.

“If it looks like too many, find a different spot. I think we can handle about ten or so as long as they're not grouped together too tightly,” Dennis clarified. “Or at least to one side of the us if they are.”

Cleaves nodded the entire time, and then nodded to Dennis. The other soldiers grinned. It appeared Huber only needed to translate in one direction.

“Man, Cleaves can tell you which fly on the other side of the room is taking a shit,” Kowalski quipped and elicited laughs from her squad.

With that, Dennis and Captain Desrochers spent a few minutes showing Corporal Cleaves the route they intended to use. Dennis charmed the map so a green line traced the path. The primary strategy centered on using the mountain ridges as causeways since zed did not possess good balance and typically did not climb mountains. Cleaves appeared to understand every word said to him.

“If we don't come across too many zed, we should be able to cover a good bit of the distance today without overtaxing Ronin, Dean, or myself. Hopefully by tomorrow noon we should reach our destination.”

Dennis' prediction cast a minor pall over the group. It reminded them their ultimate destination would likely hold the most danger. The soldiers did not know the whole story behind the base where the zed got created. However, they appeared serious when talking about the supposed conditions, and that bespoke the perilous nature of the mission. Uneasy glances got exchanged.

“Alright, let's get in a few practice jumps since everything looks pretty clear from here,” Dennis suggested.

He considered the fact he usurped the position of authority from Dean. However, Dean did not appear upset by the development. Since they began that morning, traversing on foot until they arrived at their first accessible ridge that involved fighting several band of zed, Dean did not display any outward signs he knew how to manage a military group. Dennis, conversely, felt at home in the role for reasons he could not even explain to himself. He chalked it up to the fact he believed in his ability to determine the best course of action. In the back of his mind, a picture of Katie Bell turning into a zed remained to remind him poor decisions cost lives.

The soldiers discovered very quickly how disorienting apparation process could be. They arrived at the first location wobbling and trying to center the world. Dean reminded the other wizards to make certain to always focus to avoid splinching, a term none defined for the muggles. On the third jump some ten kilometers into China, they landed on an angled patch of ground that from a distance, even through binoculars, looked flat. At the bottom of the slope a dozen zombies lay sprawled against the rock. The undead began clawing at the ground and tried to climb up toward the living people. Two of the soldiers lost their footing upon arrival, fell over due to the weight of their backpacks, and started to slide toward the zed. Given one soldier happened to be their best surveyor and the other the squad lead sergeant, the rest went to work without hesitation.

“Ronin, slide down to the left of the zed and start cracking skulls” Dennis ordered and giggled once. “I'll take the right. Dean, send up some sparks to get their attention. The rest of you, stab any zed in the head who makes it close to you.”

Much to his surprise, the soldiers did not quibble with who gave the orders. Dennis and Ronin performed their flanking maneuver while Dean put on a minor display of simple magic that got the undivided attention of the zombies. The soldiers used their bayonets to harass and kill the creatures whom managed to gain footing. Dennis and Ronin reached their destination and began to swing. Dennis learned long ago to severe necks instead of trying to slash through a skull. Once the spinal column got sliced, the bodies went limp. Even for the undead it seemed the spinal column played an important role. He laughed with every swing. Ronin could chose to either smash necks or skulls depending on his current position. Thus, the two wizards began to bash and chop their way through the zed who focused on Dean and not them.

It took ten minutes, but eventually all the undead got returned to the grave and none of the living followed them. Dennis and Ronin, both tired from the effort of fighting on a hillside, scrambled back to the main group. Soldiers offered them a hand when they got near enough.

“Whew, ya'll sure know how to use them old weapons even with all that laughing you do,” Corporal Davis complimented them yet again. “If you's didn't have those blast sticks, I'd say y'all should sign up for the army!”

“Blast sticks,” Dennis mumbled, and then smirked at his fellow wizards. He sat on the sloping mountain side to rest.

“You are – 'ow they say – a swordsman, no?” Captain Desrochers asked.

“A bit, I guess,” Dennis answered. “Got some training when I was young.”

“Don't let him fool you: he's a swordsman alright. Ask him who trained him,” Ronin grinned as he chided his friend.

“Where'd you learn to swing a blade like that?” Corporal Kowalski inquired as directed.

“You probably wouldn't believe me...”

“Oh, get on with it, Denny. Just tell them,” his traveling companion urged him.

The six soldiers and one wizard silently prodded him with their gazes. Dennis felt his cheeks heat up a bit. Too often in his life when he became the center of attention he usually did not fare well. He lowered his head a little.

“A number of people helped me learn, but a good bit of it came from an old English bloke named Peeves,” Dennis told them.

“Bloody hell, not him!” Dean spat the words. “Why in the name of Merlin would that old tosser give you hand? He never helps anyone.”

“Was ist ein alter tosser?” Sergeant Cleaves seemed to ask.

Sergeant Huber made an obscene hand gesture demonstrating the precise meaning of the word. Cleaves burst into laughter. Only Ronin blushed as the other soldiers also joined in. Dennis chuckled.

“Peeves is a thousand year-old poltergeist... a ghost,” Dennis clarified.

Six people stopped laughing and stared wide-eyed at him.

“A ghost?” Corporal Davis dryly queried. “How?”

“I don't know how he died, he never said,” Dennis answered. “But he trained me by explaining the principles of swordplay he learned for who knows, and then by throwing old bits of broken furniture at me at the very bottom of the grand staircase at school. Taught me how to parry and defend. He taught me to aim by throwing something at my head when I missed a specified target.”

The six muggles looked at him as if worms might crawl out of his ears. Dennis admitted to himself it sounded rather looney to think a poltergeist trained a lonely teenager the art of fencing. Despite the odd expressions it garnered from the faces of the other, his training remained a fact.

The last of their rest break got consumed by describing Hogwarts and some of the more colorful personalities that inhabited the school. The trio of wizards tended to shy away from any topic relating to dead friends or relatives. Throughout the discussion Dennis thought of his long deceased brother and wondered if Colin would be proud of what he did with his life since the end of the wizarding wars. He hoped so.

“Night arrives early in ze mountains, we'd better move,” Captain Desrochers encouraged the group after fifteen minutes.

The soldiers jumped to their feet. Corporal Cleaves pulled out his binoculars and scanned ahead. Two kilometers away Cleaves found the bend in the ridge that afford them a good landing site. The wizards used the binoculars of the other soldiers and focused on the location following directions translated by Huber. They improved from the earlier jumps, and the soldiers also appeared to be getting used to side affects. The made it through another four apparations before staring at another tricky point a kilometer and half in the distance.

“From what I can see neither peak offers a prime location,” Dean said after gazing at the location across a valley. “It looks snow covered as well.”

“Could make for a softer landing, but I like the closer location better. It doesn't look as steep as the other one,” Ronin added his input.

Dennis and Dean both nodded.

“Does it look, eh, shiny?” Captain Desrochers questioned.

“Nein,” Corporal Cleaves answered first.

“Not really. It doesn't look like ice if that's what you're worried about,” Dennis chimed in with the corporal.

“Oui, but should zere be ice underneath, could be tricky, no?”

“Jah, that vould be problem: ice under der snow. Ve could slide down into der valley,” Sergeant Huber added his thoughts.

“Doesn't look like much of slide... lengthwise that it,” Ronin mumbled.

“Zat is difficult to gauge, Herr Wood, from dis distance.”

Dennis fumbled with the map, whispered a spell after pulling out his wand and touching it to the paper, and watched. Once the spell finished, he announced: “That's about two hundred and fifty meters from the ridge to where the two mountain sides meet below.”

“But it's not a sheer drop,” Ronin guessed as he studied it with the binoculars.

“Well, we can't see much beyond that curve in the ridge, so it's either that one or the one across from it. Pick,” Dean said and he sounded impatient.

By a vote of six to three, the closer point got selected. The teams of soldiers and wizards assembled, and then disappeared in a hiss and pop while twisting into the nether space between. They did discover ice under the snow, but the ice proved uneven and porous. It gave them enough foothold to climb back to the top after sliding about fifteen meters. Dennis added the experience to the growing list of lessons regarding mountain travel.

The squad moved in a northeasterly track. They kept to the mountain ridges as much as possible. After thirty-five kilometers, the terrain began to slope downward. In the distance they could just make out the edge of a large mountain lake. The friendly banter between the members trickled to nothing as they contemplated the dangerous location. Corporal Guō informed them a number of fishing and vacation villages lay around the lake. Given the proximity to the zed base, it seemed unlikely they would find any living people. Ten kilometers later Guō made them stop and examine the map.

“Here Po Shanongba,” he said and pointed to spot west of northern bay of the lake. “No live there.”

“How do you know?” Ronin queried.

Guō spoke to himself in Chinese for a few seconds, and then held up his hand to head with the pinky and thumb extended. He mimed talking without saying anything, and then shook his head.

“No communication,” Sergeant Huber translated somewhat unnecessarily.

Corporal Guō held up his left hand with all the digits extended and said: “No talk, five years.”

“Coincides with the zed onset,” Dennis said aloud, but meant it for himself.

The group stood at the top of a tall hill. Each person began to scan the area. All the binoculars came out. For several minutes they surveyed the area.

“Quite a few in the lake,” Corporal Kowalski stated.

“Got movement up to the nor'west 'bout a click or two away,” Corporal Davis reported.

“Look north by northeast,” Captain Desrochers ordered. “Merde!”

In a valley north of the bay a veritable throng of zed wandered around. The slow, gangly gait surprised most of the squad since they thought the undead should be frozen. What they saw, however, only looked stiff and very much ambulatory. Dennis tried to make an estimation of the numbers.

“I'd guess there's about a hundred or so over there,” he spoke his guess.

“Add fifty to that, Denny,” Corporal Davis corrected him.

“Der is another batch quarter or haff a kilometer vest. The mountain blocks my view,” Sergeant Huber told them. “Ve may be looking at hundreds more.”

Sergeant Cleaves' arm shot forward toward the lake and loudly said: “Sergeant, schau dort!”

Everyone turned to stare in the direction he indicated. Below on the washed out beachhead of the bay they saw movement. Those with binoculars shared with those without, and it became obvious the zed somehow noticed the nine living people. The undead turned and twisted and faced the hill upon which they stood. Some began to move forward.

“The buggers must be bleeding starving to sense us way up here,” Dean said and handed the binoculars back to Corporal Guō. “We best get moving or will wind up on the menu.”

They took a minute to decide on where to land. Only one peak within the vicinity appeared flat enough and wide enough to support nine people. Dean, Dennis, and Ronin held out their arms, and their passengers took hold. One after another the three groups disapparated.

They chose poorly. The peak only looked flat due to a shadow cast on it. Furthermore, loose scree covered it. Ronin, Corporal Guō, and Sergeant Huber fell like dominoes when they arrived and immediately started to slide down the hill. Ronin, in a motion often used for fighting, unhooked his mace and drove the butt end into the loose gravel. It stopped his slide. Guō and Huber, burdened by heavy packs, refused to let go of their rifles and continued to move toward the ravine. Ronin uselessly flailed his arms trying to grab one or the other, but both men gained too much momentum and it carried them out of his reach. The two soldiers kicked at the ground in attempt to end or slow their descent. Below them hundreds of zed reached up to greet them with open, deadly arms.

“No!” Ronin shouted and almost lost his grip on the mace.

One, then two shots rang out. Both Guō and Huber stopped struggling and tumbled like rag dolls toward the mass of zed, red gushing from the back of their necks. Whether the bullets killed could not be determined, but those watching the final slide into the horde of zombies knew the two would not feel themselves getting torn to pieces. Dennis craned his head upward and saw Corporal Kowalski crouched on one knee with her rifle held snugly against her shoulder. The impassive, stony cast of her face spoke for her. Sergeant Cleaves and Corporal Davis watched with the same flat, hard expressions. One did not need to guess they saw this same situation play out far too many times.

“Merde! Merde! Shit and goddamn!” Captain Desrochers yelled and pounded his fists against his legs.

“We can't stay here,” Dean shouted at the group, broke the spell, and looked frantic.

“Ro, can you climb back up!” Dennis called out and focused on the one person who remained in danger from the zed. He struggled to keep from giggling and managed to keep most of it in check.

Ronin gazed at him with real fear in his eyes. Twelve meters further down, a small slide as everyone just witnessed, the undead tried to scramble up the side of the tiny mountain to get to him. More and more of the creatures started to triangulate on his location. Dennis saw it too often in the past: the zed would make a ramp out of themselves and eventually reach Ronin, and probably quicker than imaginable. Much to his great relief, Ronin did not entirely panic and lose his senses. He watched his friend close his eyes. It looked as if he might disapparate, but then his eyes opened. Ronin swore, and screw his eyes shut tight once again. His lips trembled, and Dennis sense of alarm started to skyrocket. Seconds later a hiss and a pop commenced, and the man stood next to Corporal Kowalski. He used the woman to balance himself.

“We have to leave before they bleeding reach us,” Dean loudly told his companions.

“I... almost couldn't... disapparate. Felt like... blocking me,” Ronin panted through the general state of suppressed panic. No one appeared to pay him any heed.

Captain Desrochers kept on cursing and swearing in French. Corporal Davis gradually appeared fit to be tied. His face glowed red with rage as he watched the undead swarming around the bodies of his fallen comrades. Kowalski watched as well, but she showed no outward visible emotions except her eyes gleamed in apparent hatred of the moment and the zed. Sergeant Cleaves sat on the ground with his head between his knees.

“The dead are not going to get what they want from those two,” Dean continued to prod the rest of the team that showed signs of shock. “One they figure that out, they'll fucking start crawling up here to get us. We've got to move now!”

The African-British wizard roughly pulled the binoculars out from Sergeant Huber's backpack. He raised them to his eyes and began to turn in a small circle. After the third rotation, he stopped and pointed.

“There. Flat, in the sun, and only a little rubble. Get up and let's get in formation,” Dean shouted at the other six people.

Corporal Kowalski rose from her kneeling position. She walked over to Corporal Davis and jerked on his jacket until he, too, stood. Then the two moved to Cleaves and together forced him to his feet. Finally, the three soldiers converged on Captain Desrochers. Kowalski held out her hand.

“Captain, we need to leave ten seconds ago,” she said to the man. “It's done. It happened, but they didn't feel a thing. Probably weren't even alive. They won't come back. Let's go.”

The corporal waggled her hand at the captain who stared it as though it might be contaminated. A few seconds later he accepted it. She helped him rise. Dennis did the same for Ronin who seemed stunned by what occurred in less than two minutes. They walked over to Dean.

“Show us where,” Dennis said in an angry, tight voice.

Dean passed over the binoculars and held his arm out. Dennis peered at the location, nodded, and handed the field glasses to Ronin. The younger Wood brother took a bit longer to find and fix on the spot. After half a minute, he also nodded and handed the binoculars back to Dean, who in turn held them out to Sergeant Cleaves. The four soldiers walked up to them. Cleaves took his field glasses. The three wizards extended their arms, and suddenly Ronin went pale as the new reality appeared to sink in. The wizard stared at this empty arm. Corporal Kowalski, however, accepted his offered forearm. Seconds later, seven people departed from the small peak as undead frantically attempted to reach the group.

The teams made a second quick jump two kilometers from the fist. It put them far above the zed and out of reach. However, the lake below appeared threatening. Dennis knew thousands, possibly tens of thousands of undead could lie beneath the surface. If one got a whiff of the wizards ambient magical fields, it could draw an unstoppable mass of the dead toward them. He stuffed down his emotions, and glanced at the rest of the squad. The loss of the two soldiers, two friends, clearly held sway over the others.

“We shouldn't stay here. Who knows how many zed are in that damn lake,” he icily stated his case.

“Zen we get away from ze facking place,” Captain Desrochers growled. The man appeared infuriated.

“Let's move,” Corporal Davis agreed and held out his hand.

It took almost an hour to make seven jumps around the eastern edge of the lake that carried them a distance of fifteen kilometers. The terrain proved difficult to gauge through binoculars, and zed swarmed in the direction they wanted to travel. The living remained rattled by the loss of the two soldiers, and it impaired their judgment once. The third jump placed them on a washout basin. Scores of undead surrounded them, but not so close as to instantly attack. They disapparated with difficulty before the first wave of the creatures could awkwardly lunge. Then next four jumps kept them clear of the monsters since they headed father east into the surround hills. When they reached the northern tip of the lake, the group halted and stared at the daunting traverse ahead of them.

“Now what the fuck do we do?” Corporal Davis droned as they stared at the largest basin they saw yet.

Sergeant Cleaves pulled out the map. They gathered around him. The bright blue dot showed their more or less precise location. Without being asked or stating what he intended, Dennis pulled out his wand. He performed a series of quick charms, and moved the tip of the wand to the distance legend and various points on the planned route. Distances began to appear.

“Zat is twenty kilometers of open space,” the captain said after reading the map. “And ze undead are everywhere! I will not lose any more soldiers under my command!”

“Looks like a lot of army was here at one time,” Kowalski said as she peered through the binoculars and seeming ignored the captain. “Bunch of uniforms down there.”

“Dort ist eine Schlacht passiert. Ich kann die gepanzerten Personenträger sehen,” Sergeant Cleaves muttered while peering around through his field glasses.

All eyes turned to Captain Desrochers since the late Sergeant Huber could not make the translation.

“He says a battle took place. Zere are carrier tanks,” the captain said, performing the task.

The group turned in the direction the remaining German sergeant indicated. Even those without binoculars could make out the scene of the fighting. A line of armored vehicles and tanks appeared to form a bulwark. Dark gray craters surrounded the area where either bombs or powerful grenades got used. It became painfully obvious the living lost the standoff as zed freely milled around.

“Bagaxiang is northeast that way about twenty clicks, so the dead must've come from there,” Corporal Kowalski murmured.

“Why would they fight here?” Corporal Davis openly inquired.

“Because,” Dean said through a sigh, “not far from there is where the modus inferi got started... created.”

He pointed to the map and used a finger to follow a road that diverged from the main thoroughfare heading northward along a river valley. The path already glowed from when Dennis first mapped it out, but Dean let his hand follow it. It showed they barely made half the distance. Moreover, the features of the map displayed rugged terrain. When he reached the final point, he stopped.

“There is where it happened. There is where the Chinese military and the Chinese witches and wizards devised these blasted buggers! We need to reach that base and... we need to go inside.”

The four remaining soldiers gaped at him.

“Mon Dieu, but that is... fou... crazy!” Captain Desrochers snapped. “Why would we want to in zere?”

“Because the answer to what these things really are and the way to defeat them is in there. Two of my best mates found it... died finding it, and we need to finish their mission.”

Dennis and Ronin already knew the story, but it appeared to come as a shock to the soldiers. Dennis wondered exactly how much Dean told the colonel and the other military personnel regarding the real nature of what they intended to do. From the look of things, it did not seem he told them everything.

“How many zee you think are in there?” Corporal Kowalski grated out the question.

“Probably hundreds... and these different from the ones we're used to fighting,” he answered. “The modus inferi there are more... aggressive. Maybe even a little smarter. The Chinese were trying to perfect a soldier they didn't have to feed or arm or even worry about. Just drop those fucking things into a fight and let 'em eat their way through the enemy. But something went wrong. They lost control.”

“That's... insane! Why the hell would they make things like that?” Corporal Davis blurted.

Sergeant Cleaves nodded his head, proving again he understood English but did not speak it well.

“By Weiss... you Americans never fucking get it,” Dean Thomas blared at the man. “You're all so cocked up you're not afraid of anything, but the rest of the world ain't like that. You bastards think you've got everyone and everything figured out, and what you can't understand you threaten to kill. You don't see how much the world fears you. You're like a bunch of bleeding drunk teenagers with the worst weapons imaginable!”

Corporals Davis and Kowalski found themselves under the scrutiny of the rest. Davis put on a belligerent face while Kowalski simply appeared angry. It seemed the death of the two soldiers continued to influence the emotions of the team. Yet the level of hostility in Dean's outburst indicated he harbored those sentiments for years. Dennis admitted to himself his thoughts did not vary to any great degree. However, they needed to remain united. Ronin stayed out of the argument by continually scanning the area through a pair of binoculars. Dennis sighed.

“That doesn't matter anymore,” he quietly stated. “America... North America got hit by the zed just as hard as England, France... Europe, the whole world. We, and I mean the world, needs the American... moxie if we're got to get through. Personally, right now I'm glad they're a bunch of loony, gun-hugging whackos. We need them, Dean, and don't forget it.”

Even though he felt his comments fell more in line with Dean, the American soldiers appeared mollified by his general statements of support. Dennis meant what he said: they did, indeed, need the Americans. He could not imagine facing what killed Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley without some people being armed and ready to shoot at anything that moved. 

“This is bigger than any single one of us,” Dennis concluded. “Now, which way should we go? Those zed are going to start noticing us pretty damn soon.”

“It's far, but I think I found a place we can apparate on,” Ronin said as he stood stock still and peered into the distance.

“Where?” Dean inquired and turned away from the angry glares.

“See those valleys over there? They look like runoff gullies.”

Dean nodded and then everyone became interested in what Ronin discovered. As he explained the location, all the other binoculars got put into use. Ronin pointed out the big river to the left, and the gully immediately to the right. It appeared to level off several hundred feet above and north the basin. Closer to the group and below in the washout basin the zed began to turn in their direction. The groaning became audible as hundreds of undead voices started to chime together. It formed a ghoulish chorus.

“The maps says it's a good twenty, twenty-five kilometers. Can we make out enough detail for a safe apparation there?” Dennis said and questioned. He glanced between the other two wizards.

“Do we have much of a choice?” Ronin countered.

“No, we don't have much of fucking choice,” Corporal Davis added his voice. “Those dead down there are coming to bite our asses, and I sure as hell don't feel like landing in the middle of that low area in front of us. Now grow a set and get ready to wizard us over there.”

The three wizards looked to the rest of the soldiers. One by one they nodded in agreement with their comrade. Finally, they let their gazes fall in Captain Desrochers.

“We cannot stay here, and zis is ze best option, no?” The captain counter-questioned.

“If you look at the map, you can see a main road runs from the southwest to the northeast, and I'm willing to be my wand it's just loaded with those slaggers. If you can disapparate to Braemar from Edinburgh, this should be a walk in the park,” Dean urged them.

“Ro?” Dennis asked since he wanted it to be a unanimous decision.

Ronin simply held out his arm. Corporal Kowalski grabbed his wrist. Dennis and Dean followed suit, and the travel teams gelled. Ronin bobbed his head once, and he and the corporal disappeared. Dean took Captain Desrochers and Sergeant Cleaves as passengers. Dennis glanced at Corporal Davis. The man roughly seized his forearm.

The wizard closed his eyes, thought of what he saw through the binoculars in striking detail, and willed himself and his passenger to the new destination. As the disapparation started the world folded in on itself, turned in a convoluted gyre, and then it seemed to inhale itself with a hiss and pop. Dennis kept his mind glued to the mental image of their point of arrival. The turbulent forward motion, as he could describe it in no other way, came to a halt. He felt himself unfold and unwrap from around a central point. Although no clear sense of direction remained, Dennis knew they landed with their feet facing in the correct direction. They dropped a couple of centimeters to the ground. Corporal Davis steadied himself against Dennis arm.

He and Corporal Davis stood, the corporal a bit wobbly, amid their compatriots. At times Dennis did entirely understand how they managed to stay grouped together or, more importantly, did not apparate inside one another. He wondered if some inherent magical ability came into play when apparating. The wizard shoved the slightly disconcerting thoughts to the side as he took in the new surroundings. A cold wind whipped around the seven people, a reminder they still resided in tallest mountain range on the planet. Dennis turned, grabbed binoculars, and scanned the area they just departed. The zed did not change position or seem to notice seven people simply disappeared. From the new angle he saw thousands upon thousands of zed occupied the basin over which they instantaneously traveled.

“Look at 'em all,” Corporal Davis whispered, echoing Dennis' thoughts.

The stocky Oklahoman with brown hair and bright blue eyes seemed discomfited by the sight. Of course, the fact they lost two comrades only a short while ago probably still preyed on the man's mind as it did on Dennis'. It seemed utterly surreal that less than an hour before they called upon the expertise of Corporal Guō and Sergeant Huber.

“Don't get down on Kowalski for what she did,” the corporal started to say.

“I won't. I had to take the head off a friend some months back, so I know what courage it took for her to give them mercy,” Dennis quietly stated.

He caught Davis studying him.

“My friend started to turn, so I had to use my sword on her neck,” he offered a scant explanation.

“Rough,” the corporal commented.

“Necessary, like those two shots,” Dennis rejoined.

The muggle soldier nodded to him, and then spun around to rejoin the main group. Sergeant Cleaves studied the map and pointed out they moved too far east. He indicated the ravine with the road they needed to follow. Dennis took out his wand, whispered the measurement spell again, and all took note that fifteen kilometers separated them from the desired location. Ronin pointed out they could make a series of smaller jumps across the ravines to reach the area. Since no wanted to stay and watch the mass of undead in the washout basin, they took his advice. Once again Corporal Davis became Dennis' passengers. Dennis got the notion their brief exchange about providing mercy to comrades and friends somehow made a difference to the man.

Five jumps, twelve minutes and fifteen kilometers later the mission team stood on the side of a hill staring down at a road following a river trace. Without a word all eyes turned north. No one needed to state their destination lay in that direction. Dean lifted his head. The wind caused the fur trim around his hood to part. When he continued to stare at the sky, others looked up as well.

“Do you see ze snow, eh?” Captain Desrochers inquired, but Dennis could not tell if the man meant to be sarcastic.

“Sun will go down soon. We should head further into the hills and camp,” Dean replied. “Might get some snow. Blazes but it's cold out here.”

Dennis looked at the sun and realized it would soon dip behind the mountains. Once night fell the temperature would plummet. Years of hiking around the British Isles taught him the dangers of getting caught in freezing conditions. He slowly started to nod. It did not take long for the rest of the company to agree.

“You should double up with a person,” Captain Desrochers recommended. “It will help stop ze freezing.”

Dennis and Ronin glanced at one another, and then at Dean.

“How big is your tent, Dean?” Dennis inquired.

“It can fit two,” he answered.

“How about three?”

Dean studied the two other wizards and said: “Yeah, it could, but should we? That's a lot of magic in one tent.”

“Oh,” Ronin quipped.

The soldiers listened and watched. Dennis saw the questions in their eyes. He gave into the silent requests.

“You all know the zed are attracted to us... magic folk,” he told them. “It's the magic they want. They feed on it somehow. If the three of us share one tent, it'd be like putting up a neon buffet sign.”

“I get it. Bunk with me Creevey,” Corporal Davis offered.

Ronin threw Dennis a knowing look, and Dennis shook his head back and forth. Sergeant Cleaves made an overture to Dean, and Dean walked over to the man. The African-German man then mumbled something else in his native tongue, and then pointed to Corporal Kowalski.

“He says you may use ze tent with him and ze wizard,” Captain Desrochers translated.

Kowalski nodded and moved toward the two.

“Then zis leaves you and me, Monsieur Wood. I 'ope you do not make ze snoring,” the captain said to Ronin.

“Well, to be honest, I've never heard myself snore,” Ronin replied and grinned.

Dennis snorted, Kowalski and Davis laughed outright, and Dean rolled his eyes but grinned.

“Zis is good since I can say the same,” Captain Desrochers gamely replied.

The group then studied the map and found a gully further east in the mountains that would help block some of the wind. They decided to march to the location so everyone could scout for any errant undead that may be trapped in the area. Forty-five minutes later the surrounding area contained no active zed. Both Dennis and Ronin got called to dispatch a zombie as no one wanted to attract more with gunfire. The sleeping groups reassemble. The wizards stood to one side while soldiers set the tents with efficiency and speed. In the meanwhile, Dennis pulled out his bedroll.

He stopped at the entrance of the tent. One idea surged through his head, and he needed to address it lest he spend the night not sleeping. His brain would keep him awake thinking. Thus, Dennis sighed quietly to himself, inhaled, and turned to the corporal. Davis stood watching him.

“I, um, so you know: I'm gay,” he told the man.

“And?” Corporal Davis asked after ten seconds ticked by.

“Just thought you should know.”

“Okay, I know. Now get in the tent 'cause my nads are freezing!”

Dennis nodded to the man, who nodded in return. He tossed his bed roll into the tent, but did not go in. He spent a few moments taking off the sword. Sleeping with the weapon still attached to his side sometimes proved painful. Then he crawled into the tent to lay out his sleeping bag and blanket. Dennis lay the sword between the tent wall and his sleeping bag. He moved to one side, after which Corporal Davis entered and performed the same ritual except with this rifle. The man then closed the entrance.

“Gonna be tight, but you're skinny 'nough so we can lay down,” the corporal told Dennis.

“I sleep on my side when not in a tree, so it shouldn't be too bad,” he responded while adjusting his position after sliding into the sleeping bag.

Dennis and Corporal Davis lay staring at one another for a few long moments

“Can I... um... ask y'all a favor?” The corporal mumbled.

In the dim light of the tent, the sun already started to descend behind the mountains, Dennis could see rosy spots on the man's face. It surprised him when the corporal acted rather shy. However, the blue eyes implored him.

“You can ask,” he wryly answered.

“Mind if I get me look at your wand? Never saw one that was real like that,” Corporal Davis requested in a rush.

“Ah,” Dennis began to buy himself a second to think. “In wizarding communities it's considered bad form to ask a witch or a wizard to surrender a wand without good reason.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't know...”

“Of course you didn't, and I don't fault you for that.”

Corporal Davis nodded his head. Dennis, in the meanwhile, reached into his jacket and slipped the wand out of the compartment sewn into the zipper tape. He then held it up, and pointed the handle at the man laying across from him.

“Honest?” Corporal Davis said in a giddy voice.

“You may, but, ah, just don't wave it around since you might set the tent on fire,” he consented and warned.

The muggle nodded in agreement and gingerly took the proffered stick. Corporal Davis held it in his hand and looked it over from tip to handle butt. The golden-red wood, burnish by the oils from Dennis' hands and over twenty years of use, gleamed in the fading light. Dennis looked at it as though seeing the wand for the first time, recalled when he went to Olivander's to purchase it, and the subtle look of envy on Colin's face when Mr. Olivander told he and his family about the properties. Dennis loved his wand from the moment he felt the rush and thrill of magic power pouring into him from the magical device.

“Red pine wood with a dragon heartstring, eleven inches long, and sturdy but supple. This was the fourth wand I tried at Olivander's, and it nearly jumped into my hand when I opened the box,” Dennis told the man with an air of nostalgia. “Colin got jealous 'cause his was dogwood with a unicorn hair. I never found out why, either, since that was damn fine wand.”

“So there're all kinds, then?” Davis inquired as he examined the simple looking object in his hand.

“Yeah, all sorts. Olivander only used three types of core, but a bunch of different woods. Said he got the red pine from America. He said he found it odd the wand chose me...”

“The wand picked you?”

“'The wand chooses the wizard,' as the old saying goes,” Dennis told him and grinned, but then became more thoughtful. “This wand is... it's like a best friend to me. Does whatever I ask, especially when I started mucking around the countryside. Sometimes I barely need to think about what I want it to do and it's done. It got me NEWTs in charms at school even when I tinkered with the spells.”

“School... for wizards? Still havin' a hard time picturing it,” the corporal skeptically spoke.

“And for witches... since Hogwarts is co-ed.”

With that, the two spent the rest of the twilight talking about Hogwarts and some of Dennis' experiences. Although he technically violated parts of the secrecy statute, he felt at ease with Corporal Davis and believed the man to be trustworthy. Sometimes the soldier made a comparison to military life, and, thus, Dennis got to learn more about the muggle military. He learned about the different branches of the US armed services, a name the wizard found very odd since he did not think people without arms would make good soldiers. Corporal Davis proudly announced himself a marine. Thus, the two talked about their worlds. Although neither said out loud, the timbre of the voices revealed a certain amount of homesickness. The conversation also helped them set aside for a brief while the losses from the afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

“No, it doesn't work in that manner,” Adrian Pucey said in his usual quiet manner, but with a noticeable strain around the edges. His dark eyes glittered with an unspoken emotion.

Dr. Nyindu Ikani huffed loudly through his wide nose. The Congolese man appeared put out by the answer; the same answer he received each time he made the speculation. Magic and physics circled one another like predators searching for a weakness.

“There has to be some... some sense of rhyme and reason to the reactions. What you are describing...” Ikani hotly began.

“Is exactly what I've told you half a dozen times. Want another demonstration?” Pucey said and sliced through the nascent tirade. “Micheal, if you would?”

Adrian and Michael Corner each produced their wands. They aimed them at the cup sitting in the middle of the table. The two wizards eyed one another. Adrian grimaced and glanced at the ceiling wherein lay hid several microphones and speakers used in teleconferences along secured lines.

“Same as before: rat and dove?” Michael asked, his hazel eyes focused on the object on the table.

“Yes, and please try for a complete transfiguration,” Pucey instructed the other magi.

Corner nodded. The two wizard then mumbled under their breath, aimed their wands, and appeared to ignore everything around them. Waves of perturbed air surrounded the cup as magic spouted from the wands. The two streams struck the porcelain vessel. It hopped twice and wobbled in an erratic half-circle. Slowly the shape began to elongate. Scraps of brown-gray hair began to emerge on the outside as the rim of the cup folded upward and unto itself. Above the table the lights flickered while the speakers began to crackle and hiss. Adrian and Micheal, however, ignored the sound. The handle of the cup sprang free at one end, became longer and then flattened. Both feathers and fur grew on the surface. Meanwhile, the front of the cup began to distend outward. Eyes and ears appeared, white plumage sprang from the cheeks. Beady black eyes with red irises came into being. Moment by moment a grotesque creature took form.

“This is inconceivable!” Dr. Ikani grumbled. “This looks nothing like your first three attempts. One of the back legs is a wing!”

“Please, turn it back into a cup,” Natalie all but whispered her request as she stared in horror at the small nightmare.

The wizards nodded. The air around the struggling little monstrosity changed, and the mutated aspects of the rat-dove combination started to withdraw. After ten seconds, the cup sat on the table looking as though nothing happened. Natalie silently vowed to never use it. She joined the meeting out of curiosity when the rumors about Dr. Ikani stalling in his research for two days circulated widely among the staff. She wanted to see it for herself.

“Nyindu, do you accept the results are unpredictable?” Corner moodily asked the stout African physicist.

“Are you both using the same level thaumatic energy to initiate the transfiguration?” Ikani burped out the question in response.

“Do you have some means to measure both our efforts at the same time?” Adrian added a third query to the mix. “I felt as though I was using the same level of concentration. Michael?”

Corner nodded his head.

“If you are not consistently applying the same level of energy...”

“The results will not be consistent,” Corner finished for the muggle scientist.

“So this is probably why the spells used to make the zee spun out of control and created a mutated variant,” Natalie speculated aloud.

“She gets it,” Adrian quipped.

Dr. Ikani glared at Dr. Jenkins. The woman, however, met his glower with cool indifference. Her interest in their discussion went beyond simple personal curiosity: Dr. Anita Ramirez, Dr. Louis Savini, and Dr. Miriam Stout all needed the results of the collaboration to begin to piece together how the tangled spells worked on the dead. However, Corner and Ikani became increasingly antagonistic toward one another as they attempted to sort through the possible interactions. Adrian got pulled into the fray to help steer the two, but he got ensnared in the arguments. Colonel Lange sent in Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins to help navigate between the three.

“And this postulates that more than one witch and or wizard worked at the same time on the test subjects?” She continued.

The two magi nodded. Nyindu rolled his his eyes. Thus far he proved unable to devise a predictive model of magic, and his frustration nearly manifested as a physical force on its own. Because of the amount of equipment he burned through as he tested Teddy Lupin, the means to test two witches or wizards unison remained null until the new meters arrived.

“Nyindu, can I ask what maybe be a seriously dumb question?” Natalie proposed.

The physicist shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Is there a chance that maybe there might be subtle – I don't know – differences in the magic between two magi?”

“What do you mean?” The man grunted.

“Something on the quantum level... or maybe the frequency or amplitude varies from person to person?” Natalie attempted to clarify.

The corners of Nyindu's mouth pulled downward as he openly pondered the question. Corner and Pucey shot one another a puzzled look, and Natalie made a note of it. She gave no outward sign she knew her question, and the line of thinking that sponsored it, to be completely flawed. However, she wanted the man to change gears.

“I am thinking I understand what you mean, doctor, but if the energy of magic had quantum variations, then one magi would not be able to counteract or undo the magic of another. It would be like trying to breed a mouse with a cat,” Ikani stated, but he did not sound angry.

Michael Corner suddenly sat bolt upright, his eyes wide, and he stared at the man from the Congo before he said: “Like electricity... the difference between voltage and amperage in American and European devices! It's all electricity, but....”

Nyindu's eyebrows start to slowly move upward toward his receding hairline as the magi's statement trailed off. He did not need to expound further.

“That's what I meant,” Natalie said in a rather smug tone, and it drew looks from the three men.

“Adrian, how did you do in Charms?” Michael asked his contemporary.

“Now or in school?” Pucey inquired.

“Back at Hogwarts,” Corner specified, and the he affected a squeaky voice: “Now one half turn, and then point and jab: turn, point, and jab.”

“Flitwick drove me mental with that,” Pucey droned, but then turned more serious. “I wish he would've told us it was about shaping the magic before...”

“What is this shaping the magic?” Dr. Ikani brusquely interjected. “I've never been told about this shaping? What is it? What does it do?”

Corner and Pucey stared blankly at one another.

“Nyindu, you're going to hate this question, but you do you understand the difference between charms, hexes, curses, and spells?” Colonel Jenkins queried as calmly as she could.

“They are all methods of employing thaums. The underlying principle is the same...”

“Not entirely,” Michael Corner halted the physicist.

Ikani glowered again.

“You've been paying attention, haven't you?” The magi theorist said to the normie virologist.

Natalie smiled. Padma went to considerable lengths to instruct Natalie on the discrete differences in the manner of using magic. She slowly learned that a charm required a more delicate application of magic whereas most curses relied on force and willpower. A hex, like a charm, also operated on a more subtle level, but the method of deploying a hex varied widely from a charm. In the same vein, a spell tended to be a complicated series of both magical and physical manipulation that could take weeks to complete. Potions often served as a good example of complex spellwork. Each branch used magic, but the processes proved very distinct and individual.

“Adrian, based on that morbid display you and Michael conducted, what do you think would happen if one magi tried to apply a charm at the same time another used a hex, and then layered a spell on top if it?”

Even Ikani leaned forward to hear the answer when Natalie finished her question.

“Well, did Padma tell you the story about the muggle lawnmower that tried to take down a forest?” Adrian quietly countered.

Natalie nodded, but Dr. Ikani did not. Adrian took a few minutes to relate the tale. The normie physicist appeared shocked by the end. Natalie could see the tale made some sort of real impact on the man. Although no one got seriously hurt from the encounter with the magicked machine, it showed how a simple miscalculation in applied magic could result in dangerous if unintended consequences, a seemingly natural law even the magi could not avoid.

“Was it lack of specificity in the magic?” Nyindu quickly recovered.

“A bit, but it really hinged on two spells being at cross purposes... two charms that is,” Pucey answered. “This gets to the heart of what we've been trying to tell you: even if we know what spells were used to make the zed, we still need to unravel how they interacted. We'll have to do our own experiments.”

“No!” Natalie instantly refuted in horror as her hands slapped the tabletop. “You will never be permitted to replicate those experiments! I'd shoot you dead first!”

“Not on humans,” Adrian intoned in a shocked voice.

“Why? What on god's green earth would you gain from making anything like the zee?” The muggle doctor spat out the questions.

“Results of interaction,” Dr. Ikani spoke before the wizards.

Natalie and the magi threw stunned glances at the dark-skinned man. His brow creased and he appeared disturbed by his own thoughts. However, Nyindu also seemed certain.

“Sooner or later we would come to this river and have need to cross it,” the physicist said. “Yes, we will face crocodiles as we wade in, but this cannot be avoided, Dr. Jenkins. Sometimes you need to create the disease in order to understand how to defeat it.”

The only woman in the room felt her gorge rise as she considered what the men suggested. Her head began to move back and forth as she viscerally rejected the notion. The team got created, and held together by Colonel Lange at a rather high personal cost, to defeat the undead and not to create more. The notion appalled her beyond reason.

“They have a point, Nat,” Colonel Lange said ten minutes later when the physicist and the wizards could not convince the lieutenant colonel of the possible need, and Natalie stormed from the conference room to her commanding officer's office. “I thought it could be a distinct possibility in the past.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Natalie shouted.

“No, but you're being insubordinate, Colonel Jenkins,” Amanda said in her tightly controlled official voice.

Natalie, hearing the tone, flopped back down into the chair.

“Natalie, how many times in your first years with the army did you sit in a lab an incubate diseases?” The older woman asked.

The junior officer looked away from her superior and said: “This isn't the same, Mandy. I didn't make anything that threatened to destroy the world.”

“That's not what we're proposing, Dr. Jenkins. These would be small, controlled experiments to see if we can replicate portions, only portions, of the overall zed effect,” Michael Corner said with a hint of both contrition and supplication in his voice.

“And we would destroy them immediately after the trials,” Amanda quickly added. “Nothing would escape this compound.”

“That's what they thought,” Natalie grumbled.

“Perhaps, but what they really thought was far worse, Natalie. If the memories from Ron Weasley...” and Micheal Corner halted for a moment before shaking his head and continuing. “If those are accurate, then the ones who made the zed were planning on using them as a weapon, and probably without warning. We're not making a weapon, doctor: we're trying to destroy one.”

“Dr. Jenkins, do you really think after all we've been through... any of us, both muggles and the magical, want to make this worse?” Adrian questioned and did not sound pleased. “Most everyone I ever knew is dead. What few are alive... I want to make sure they get the chance to keep living. It's why I agreed to this at the start.”

“And he's not really a joiner,” Corner said. His words elicited a grin from Pucey.

Colonel Lange sighed and said: “Nat, I've already thought about this. I knew the need to test would eventually come up, and I've been making plans. You know how I am.”

Natalie nodded, and she did indeed know. Amanda Lange encouraged similar behaviors in all her officers, The lessons learned early in her career at the side of Colonel Lange never left Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins.

“First and foremost, any experiments will be treated as a level four bio-hazard. That's already a guarantee. If everyone doesn't agree to the restrictions, then the tests don't move forward.”

“And what if they conduct the experiments where you can't see?” Natalie questioned her superior officer.

“Well, it proves they didn't read the forms they signed when they joined this team,” the older woman said and strangely frightening smirk rippled across her lips. The gray-brown hair neatly coiled on her head added to the disconcerting affect. “It would be a death sentence for whoever decided that was a good idea.”

Natalie shifted her eyes and saw a sudden appearance of concern on the visages of the magi and the physicist.

“Oh, we're not playing around on this one, folks. I suggest you brush up on the protocols for level four containment. There'll be no exceptions for any of the precautions no matter how onerous they seem to you. Am I clear?” Amanda told them in the same vaguely threatening manner while the air in the room seemed to grow a bit oppressive.

Four heads nodded simply because Natalie spent too much time responding to her friend and senior officer. The three men, however, continued to appear uncertain. In some respects, it helped ease the lieutenant colonel's worries. In fact, seeing the magi concerned about what a normie military officer would do, despite their considerable collective power, eased her. Natalie still did not consider allowing the experiments to be a wise decision overall, but at least precautions would be put into place.

“You're really going to allow them to do this?” She asked in a more deferential tone.

“If it's the only way to advance the research in defeating the zed, then yes. Don't think for one second I like it as an option, and it will be the option of last resort. I'll need to see proof that all other avenues and methods got exhausted first. I can't take it off the table, Nat, but I sure as hell can make it damn difficult to obtain,” Amanda stated and not just for the benefit of her junior officer.

“If you make this an impossible option...” Michael started.

“I didn't say impossible, Mr. Corner. Don't misinterpret my words.”

“Difficult, then,” he corrected himself under the cold stare of the colonel. “It could delay our progress.”

“I am willing to weigh any factor you care to offer, but expediency for the sake of it isn't one I'll take into consideration,” she replied with less institutional force. “I know I've said time is against us, but I'm not going to allow for reckless or unethical behavior. Understood?”

“Madame Colonel,” Adrian spoke up and used one of favorite awkward phrases, “I'm not being cheeky, but even now we're only guessing at what they did. Without real evidence of what went wrong in China, we can't even start to piece together a list of spells they might've used. We need this type of... research soon or we're at a dead stop. This could throw a spanner in the works.”

“Even though Pucey sounds like a dark wizard in training...”

“Piss off, Corner,” Adrian spat at his colleague.

“Regardless, he's got a bit of point, Colonel. All we're doing now is guessing. ‘Til we start putting some practice behind the theory, this could all wind up being... nothing but tosh,” Michael completed his comment.

“So you're telling me you have a list of candidate spells and believe you understand how they might have created the zee?” Colonel Lange calmly inquired.

Adrian and Michael glanced at one another before Michael replied: “Not entirely. We've got some good guesses, but nothing certain.”

“I see, and what's your take on this, Nyindu?”

“Me? This is all so new I cannot begin to formulate...”

“Stop prevaricating,” Amanda ordered the physicist.

“We... still need to test the wizards to measure their thaumatic energy output while they cast a spell. I still do not know the upper and lower bounds, and we haven't been able to successfully replicate a number of preliminary results. I need more equipment.”

“So you're telling me there still is some essential studies to conduct before experimentation can begin?”

“That would, ah, be a fair assessment,” Dr. Ikani quietly admitted.

Amanda nodded her head while making a steeple of her fingers in front of her face. She eyed everyone in the room. The wizards appeared discomfited by the scrutiny. Dr. Ikani would not meet her gaze. Natalie felt relieved.

“We've got more supplies on order, Nyindu,” the colonel said in a measured tone. “Please feel free to report back to me when you have more conclusive results, gentlemen. Don't let me keep you from your work.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Michael Corner said and stood. He grabbed Adrian by the sleeve of his shirt.

Dr. Ikani also took the hint and departed the office with the two wizards. Natalie remained in her seat. The colonel slowly looked in her direction.

“You ever swear at me like that again during business hours and I will put you on report, Nat,” the woman said in a cool tone.

“Mandy, I'm sorry, but they scared the shit out of me. They acted like conducting reanimation experiments was no big deal and a necessity,” Natalie only half apologized.

Colonel Lange leaned back in her chair. She seemed preoccupied for a moment. Natalie wondered about the cause.

“It hasn't even been a week since we learned to work together again, Nat, and we can't afford to ruffle each others feathers right now,” her commanding officer said in a distant fashion. “The fact Corner and Ikani are sitting in the same room devising test plans is almost... magical.”

Natalie rolled her eyes.

“All levity aside, they've made some impressive progress, don't you think?”

“I guess,” the junior officer rejoined and sounded less than impressed.

“Nat?”

“Did Padma talk to you about Adrian?”

“What? You mean his focused insistence on experimentation? I didn't need her to warn me about him in order to see it. Do you think he might be a security risk?” The colonel uncharacteristically prodded her lieutenant colonel for thoughts regarding security matters.

“I'm not certain he represents as much of a risk for us as he does for the magi. He's got some obvious dark leanings, Mandy. It's his fascination with Nyindu's line of research that troubles me most. I'd be more concerned about what he might be able to do after were find the zee solution,” Natalie freely expressed her concerns.

“Didn't think about what he's doing with Nyindu. I thought Corner would get more out of that interaction. Stout, too, for that matter. I'd like to see her spend more time with Nina and Ikani if at all possible. I believe those three working together...”

“Add Arliss to that mix. Did you see the way he vivisected that zee without damaging any of the brain or spinal column? The man's got rock-steady hands, Mandy.”

“I spent over an hour with him as he explained what he discovered not only recently but years ago. How the hell did he get stuck in the Canadian outback?” Amanda openly questioned.

“Weyland isn't fond of him – I checked the record – and not because they worked together. I guess Arliss has a reputation for latching onto something and not letting go. That's why he got sent up there after the nuclear accident. His skills are good for research, but...” Natalie responded and left obvious part unspoken.

“Well, he's perfect for what we're doing here. His vivisection looked phony it was so textbook. Caldwell should be teaching technique at Army Medical. Did you see what he did with the bone saw on the vertebrae and the skull?”

For several minutes the two women waxed eloquent regarding Arliss Caldwell. In the forensic operating theater, the man appeared more wizard than doctor. He expertly exposed the spinal column, the brain stem, and he lower brain. Everyone on the team, including the magi, stopped in to see the accumulation of strange crystal resulting from the magical interaction. Showing the zee to be nothing more than a collection of reanimated dead parts went a long way in calming the magi in regard to physically examining the zee. It did not stop the nightmares or visions it produced in the more sensitive of them, but it made the creatures less threatening overall. Colonel Lange speculated she would put the man in for a promotion after his service to the special project team. 

“And Pucey?” Natalie returned to the main topic for the moment.

“We keep an eye on him. We don't let him work alone, and press him to report at every meeting. We'll figure out what he might be thinking or planning by keeping him fully engaged. You know what they say about sunshine?” Amanda replied.

“Maybe it's time we added Lou to that little team of Corner, Pucey, and Ikani.”

Amanda burst out laughing, and it took a several moments before she said: “Nat, that is brilliant. He scares the shit out of all three of them!”

“Just those three?” Natalie droned.

“Lou is intense and maybe a little vicious at times, but he is a marine after all. Besides, he's one of the best in nuclear medicine, and he should be working with them. Lou might be able to find a way to string together their research in a way they haven't though of,” the colonel opined.

“With Nina there, it will be hard for Adrian to guide the others into less than savory avenues of exploration.”

“You do realize that's most of the team?”

“Maybe it's time for us to all come together in one place beside the conference room. Did you notice the magi like to stand behind someone when looking at the zee?” Natalie proposed and offered an observation.

“Teddy told me we act like a natural barrier against the ambient magic of the zee,” Amanda commented. “Why do you think the glee-some threesome didn't invite Teddy into their discussion? Did you hear he's teaching himself normie physics? You'd think Nyindu would jump on the opportunity to lecture a magi about physics.”

“Padma said Pucey is afraid of anything having to do with werewolves because of that war they had, and I guess Teddy is too close it for the guy's comfort. He won't be alone in a room with Teddy.”

The two military officers stared at one another for a moment.

“There has to be more to it than that,” Amanda conjectured. “Teddy's not werewolf, but he is an ani... ma... morphus or whatever the hell he is. Plus he's really sensitive to magic. Maybe Pucey is using some sort of subtle spell on Nyindu and Michael.”

“Not a chance. Corner would spot it a mile away, but he might be up to something else Michael couldn't... or can't detect. 

“I don't know, Nat. Adrian doesn't strike me as someone inherently... evil. He's one of the first to admit how much he's lost in all of this zee madness. Adrian also volunteered for this assignment, and it wasn't a popular choice among his people. Are we misreading his zeal to eliminate the zombies as something nefarious?”

Once more Natalie's longtime friend gave her reason to pause and question her own thinking. She thought back to when Padma first warned her about Adrian Pucey's past concerning his associates while they attended the magic school. However, a magic war, an undead invasion, and twenty years separated them from that time. That would spark a change in anyone. Natalie began to wonder if her magi friend found it impossible to not look through the lens of the past at the man. She sighed a bit.

“I can't imagine what Padma would gain by misleading us about Adrian,” Natalie spoke as much to her own thoughts as she did to her commanding officer.

Amanda seemed to take the comments with all due seriousness and gazed forward at nothing. A strange quiet hung in the air as the women silently contemplated the various angles with which to view the current topic. An equal number of questions and answers seemed to keep the scales in balance. Natalie wracked her brain to see if she could remember any overt action on the part of Pucey to give cause for suspicion. She waited to see what the colonel produced.

“She is a cop – of sorts – and maybe Padma's trapped in her method of thinking. If Adrian hung out with a bunch of dark wizards at school and then compiled a list of minor magical crimes, I could she why she'd be suspect about him,” the older woman rejoined after the pause.

“But is it grounds for reasonable suspicion at this juncture?”

“Very good, Nat. I'll make you a commanding officer yet,” Amanda said and a small malicious grin played on her lips.

“Never! I'm a lab rat, Mandy, and that's all I ever wanted to be,” Natalie fired back, but smirked.

“Come to the brass side, Natalie. We have wine and cookies on Fridays.”

Natalie chuckled at her friend's absurd attempt at pop culture humor. Then she said: “Maybe you're the one we should be watching.”

Amanda snickered in a faux evil manner and rubbed her hands together as if plotting like a supervillain. 

The next day Natalie wondered if she should suspect her commanding officer when Amanda called everyone in for an early morning meeting. There the colonel announced they would be working as a complete team and that Major Caldwell would lead them on a forensic tour of the zee he prepared. The magi appeared nervous at the prospect, but Arliss assured them they would be completely safe. He outlined his own personal security measures that included severing the spinal cord of the zee in the neck, thus rendering it completely immobile from the shoulders down. The man also said he left every restraint in place in case the creature displayed a regenerative property hitherto undiscovered. Arliss then reminded everyone an armed guard goy stationed in the exam room with the sole order to shoot the creature in the head if it showed any signs of getting loose. By the time he finished, everyone seemed mollified.

“Okay, go suit up and meet outside Arliss' operating theater. We all know where it's located,” Colonel Lange ordered the entire team.

Half an hour later thirteen people wearing nearly identical surgical gowns over surgical scrubs, face masks and face shields, latex gloves, and blue spun fiber booties over shoes gathered outside of Major Caldwell's secondary residence. Only the eyes remained uncovered, and each set stared intently at the object of their inquest. Through the glass they could see the mostly inert zee strapped to a surgical table. In one corner a guard wearing similar clothing over his military protective gear stood holding a riffle at the ready. The soldier looked ridiculous, Natalie thought, since they did not really have to worry about iatrogenic contamination or diseases: the patient, although it showed some signs of life, clearly did not remain in the land of the living. Furthermore, the zee proved entirely resistant to any diseases affecting the living.

“All right, let's go see what ZF4-B4 can teach us!” Arliss said much in the way an excited child might about Christmas morning.

The forensic pathologist lead the group of doctors and magi into the theater vestibule through the automatic double-doors. He then flipped a switch and informed he turned off the motion sensor. No one needed to comment about the security measure. The next set of doors remained closed via clever but simple handle configuration no zee could ever hope to manage. Again, the detail regarding security lent a sense of calm to most of the team. As they entered the operating room, the head of the zee began to twitch.

“Good morning, Chasson,” Caldwell spoke directly to the guard. “Colonel Lange is hidden somewhere in the group.”

“Ma'am!” The guard snapped to attention, but did not salute as that would require relinquishing full control of his weapon.

“At ease sergeant and resume watch,” she told the man.

Sergeant Chasson assumed his duty stance.

“In fact, we've got a couple of lieutenant colonels, some majors...” Caldwell began to rattle of the list of ranks of those in attendance, and it caused to the soldier to stiffen.

“Relax, sergeant, and be nice, Arliss,” Amanda said and chastised the major.

“Yes, ma'am,” the man replied through clearly suppressed chuckle.

“It's strange not hearing a heart monitor in an operating room,” Commander Ramirez remarked as she walked among the group toward the subject.

“I could plug it in, but it would just set off the code alarm since he's been flat-lined for at least two years,” Arliss replied. “I also didn't see the need to hook up the ventilator, either, since... well, same reason. There're no respiratory functions.”

“Still strange,” Nina commented again.

The doctors lined up along either side of the mostly inert zee. Depending on height, the magi selected a person behind whom to stand. Teddy, being tall, stood behind Natalie who also ranged a few inches above average female height. After a few seconds, she noticed a discernible aroma of bacon and maple syrup wafting from the young man. It reminded her again of Teddy's youth. She only consumed toast and coffee for her morning repast.

“Now, as you can see, I've removed the skin, connective tissue, and muscle from the C1, C2, and C3 vertebrae,” Arliss said, immediately jumping into the examination once he stood at the head of the table. He pointed with a set of long, thin Mikulicz forceps that gently curved at the mouth.

“What do those letters and numbers mean?” Pucey inquired while peering over the shoulder of Major Garner, who stood on the other side of the table from Natalie.

“The letter designates the portion of the spine, in this case the cervical section, and the number is the ordinal position of the bone from top to bottom,” Major Caldwell explained without missing a beat. “Further down we have the thoracic, lumbar, and sacrum sections, and they would be denoted by their ordinal position as well.”

“And the coccyx?” Lieutenant Colonel Miller intoned.

“Randy?” Amanda interceded, and Natalie approved since Arliss seemed entirely willing to carry out a gross anatomy lesson about the spine.

“Okay, moving on,” Caldwell said in response to the hint. “If we start at C3 and move up, we can see the spinal cord as it leads into the brain stem, and note the accumulation of sorceral majoris mineralization...”

“The sor-what ma-what?” Natalie heard herself blurt before she could stop the thought. Teddy snickered behind her.

Arliss glanced around at the people dressed in the same sky blue color in the aluminum, stainless steel, and white tiled room. The group waited for an answer. The lead doctor cleared his throat a single time.

“The crystals we see collecting on the spinal cord, the brain stem and in other regions of the brain needed a name, so I sort of concocted one,” he told them. “Sorceral I got from sorcerer, and majoris I borrowed from canis major since some crystals are much larger than others and sparkle quite brightly, and mineralization that... sort of speaks for itself.”

“So there's a source minoris...

“Oh, yes, certainly. Sorceral minoris mineralization happens deeper in the brain tissue, especially in the thalamus and cerebellum. You'll also find a smattering of them scattered around the parietal, temporal, and occipital lobes. These crystals act like wiring patches for the decayed axons...”

“Impossible,” Nina Ramirez, the resident neurologist barked. “Once those connections are lost...”

“Magic, Nina. We're talking magic here,” Savini snapped at the woman. “All rules and bets are off when it comes to this shit.”

“Certainly. Lou is correct. These crystalline structures never appear in an unaffected brain. Dr. Stout, have you ever seen sorceral majoris or minoris mineralization in any of your living patients?” Arliss questioned the magi doctor.

“I've, um, never... cut into a patient's brain... not like this,” Miriam replied and sounded disturbed by the very concept.

“Then how do you conduct diagnosis for non-surface or neural conditions?”

“We have other means,” she answered and held up her wand.

“Ah! Yes, I suppose you could do quite an intensive investigation without ever once having to open up the patient. Very handy that,” Arliss rejoined with a mix of admiration and envy. “And nearly all of mine arrive postmortem.”

“Arliss, when you say these mineral accumulations act as wiring patches, what do you mean?” Amanda inquired and forced the group back onto topic.

“Well, in my other – for lack of a better term – pre-termination autopsies of the zee, I found if the sorceral is removed, the subject begins to... I suppose you could say malfunction,” the forensic pathologist said and shrugged his shoulders. “The crystals also appear to be a point of condensation within the brain in order to achieve a minimal three-percent moisture content. Below that the brain stops working properly.”

“How many of these things have you... cut apart?” Michael Corner's voice drifted across the table.

“Over the course of the last three years I'd say hundreds. Like Natalie, I began to suspect solanum virus didn't exist, but no one really was interested in the opinion of a field forensic specialist. During that time I also noticed the crystals, and that really began to make me wonder... especially after I watched them evaporate...”

“Evaporate?” Randy Miller blurted. “Crystals don't just evaporate, Arliss!”

“These do,” Arliss sternly replied. “Once a zee is terminated, all traces of sorceral disappear within a few hours. I've watched the process. Somewhere inside the zee brain is the locus of control that, once disrupted, no longer correctly channels the magic. When the flow stops, the crystals don't or can't accumulate. The ones already present begin to... evaporate. They shrink and disappear. That's how the zee come to a final end.”

The muggle medical staff exchanged long glances. What Dr. Caldwell stated provided insight into what normally would be an unbelievable condition. Natalie saw the almost bewildered gazes of her friends and colleagues. Conversely, the magi did not appear to be either amazed or impressed. They took it in stride.

“Nyindu, do you have any geology background?” Colonel Lange inquired.

“None,” the deep voice told her, “and I cannot offer a physical explanation for any of this without considerable lab time.”

“Does anyone have any geologic knowledge?” The colonel threw open the question.

“No, I don't, not really,” Nina Ramirez said, and then she glanced around. “But this sounds like what happens to snow.”

“Snow? How?” Major Savini grunted.

“Rain and snow both begin by finding a nucleus where the water can gather,” the neurologist began. “With snow, the crystalline structure is dictated by the three-sided structure of the water molecule. It evolves into a septahedron because of the lattice formation of water molecules... kind of like a bee's honeycomb.”

“And that has to do with this how?” Major Garner inquired, but it did not sound patronizing.

“The magic has to be latching onto something in the brain to begin coalescing into the crystals.”

“Like stalagmites... or stalactites... or whichever one drips from the ceilings of caves,” Padma muttered.

“I don't think that's the same as this, Padma,” Teddy said from behind Natalie.

“No, it's not,” Nina rejoined. “Those are deposits carried in the water.”

“But isn't the magic acting like flowing water in zed brain?” The Hindi-British woman pressed her point.

“Is the distinction of any goddamn use?” Savini grumbled.

“It might,” Adrian added his voice to the conversation. “Some of the spells activating the zed require a constant magical input, which is why the zed migrate along ley lines. They tend to follow the strongest ones. There must be a spell of some sort that orients them.”

“Is that speculation or a fact?” Amanda plied the question.

“A guess,” the normally quiet magi responded.

“But that would make sense,” Corner quickly piped up. “Since they're not really thinking, they wouldn't know to follow the ley lines...”

“But birds and other animals use the earth's magnetic field as a compass and they're not aware of it,” Natalie countered.

“That's biological, and this isn't normal biology, Natalie,” Arliss said from his place at the head of the table.

“But the human eye is capable magnetosensivity to see certain parts of the light spectrum,” Savini joined into the argument against his original question.

“Ever see a zee eye?” Miller verbally parried. “Not a lot of light going through a necrotic lens.”

“Could the ability to sense magic flow be a natural by-product of the spells?” Dr. Ramirez opined.

“Teddy, you're naturally sensitive to magic. Any idea of how that works in your system?” Natalie joined several piece of information together and formed a question for the young man.

She felt more than saw Teddy's shoulders lifted up and down in response.

“Nyindu, did you find a cause?” Natalie tossed the query at the one person who extensively studied young Edward Lupin.

“He reacts magically to physical and emotional stress from what can be observed, but how he perceives magic we could not study... the MRI did not work out like we hoped,” Dr. Ikani replied and only alluded to the ill-fated experiment that destroyed a machine worth half a million dollars.

“It's a bit like air pressure,” Teddy quietly informed the group about his ability. “I told Nyindu about it. It's like I can sort of feel the magic pushing against me. The more of it there is, the more I can sense it. Sometimes it makes my brain tingle a bit, like me hair is growing on the inside of my skull.”

“I've heard lycans say the same thing about the moon effect. It's not just light that gets reflected from the lunar surface, but the light acts like a carrier,” Miriam added.

“And the angle,” Teddy spoke up. “Aunt Hermione said the angle of the light played an important role, which is why my dad only transformed under a full moon.”

Adrian took a step away from the group when the subject of werewolves arose.

“He's not one, Pucey,” Corner chastised his colleague.

“I saw a loup change once!” Adrian defended his reaction. “And I saw Greyback in action at Hogwarts!”

“A loop?” Jerry Garner asked.

“An old French term for werewolf: loup-garou. It's considered a facking insult even though your people use it quite a bit in Louisiana,” Teddy mumbled, and it made sense he would know the history of the word.

“And there's no correlation between the zed and lycanthropy from what I can see. The dead didn't go through a physical manifestation,” Corner said in a thoughtful manner.

“'Cept die,” Dr. Miller countered.

“But the effect doesn't take place until after complete physical death,” Natalie amended.

“Which means the normal electrochemical functioning of the brain impedes the magical infection,” Nina theorized aloud.

“So being alive is a natural immunization to these spells?” Amanda asked as if she did not quite believe her own question.

“If so, then how?” Arliss muttered.

The group fell into silence and glanced around the exam table. Natalie felt her brain heat up as she pondered the wide-ranging implications of the idea. She considered the opposite side of the coin: death proved the ultimate disease against life. The notion turned on itself and transformed into a concept that the zee state required life first and then death, and death removed the living part while leaving the physical vessel behind. Since life occurred principally in the brain and the body acted as the means to keep the brain alive, Natalie thought, then what about the living brain or the severally injured dead brain kept the zee state from activating? She felt something like a shock.

“Could we use electricity as a weapon against the zee? What does an electrical signal do the sorceral, Arliss?” She pondered and asked.

“I've never applied a charge to the zee brain or the crystals,” he confessed.

“Do we have a neural stimulator here?” Nina inquired as though from instinct.

Everyone turned to look at Colonel Lange who then turned toward Major Garner.

“Of course we do,” the man grumbled. “This is a fully equipped surgical hospital.”

“Where is it, Jerry?” His commanding officer queried.

“In sterile storage.”

The colonel eyed her second-in-command. He levelly returned the gaze. Natalie watched as Amanda's eyebrows rose upward and silently asked the question. Jerry leaned forward a bit. The slight hiss of the ventilation system and fourteen people breathing slipped around the group. For the first time Natalie noticed the zee strapped to the table did not make any sound. She wondered how Arliss silenced the creature.

“Right now, ma'am? In the middle of this?” The base sub-commander warbled in disbelief.

“Okay, maybe not right now, Jerry, but as soon as you can,” the colonel relented.

“Yes, ma'am.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Lou Savini asked: “What if we ran an overload of magic through it?”

“Impossible,” Michael Corner and Miriam Stout said in unison.

Micheal inclined his head to the magi doctor who continued: “A deliberate use of a magical build-up only either overstimulates the zed or backfires and kills the caster. I think you forgot these things live to eat magic. We'd only be supplying the rotters a buffet.”

Michael nodded his head in agreement. Behind his face shield, one could see Savini's eyebrows draw together in frustration. Natalie knew that as a marine, even above his role as a doctor, his first instinct centered on fighting. She periodically felt like fighting as well, and then reminded herself the group gathered at the base worked on formulating the best offensive against the undead. Those more inclined to direct conflict could lose sight of the subtle endgame they played.

“We need to avoid that, just like we need avoid using nukes against them,” Arliss quipped.

All heads swung in his direction.

“Mumbai, anyone? It didn't kill the creatures outside of the immediate blast zone, and radiation got spread for hundreds of miles,” he openly recalled.

“And firebombing didn't prove very effective either,” Padma stated in a dire manner. “Even the severely burned remained active... plus they stank to high heaven.”

“Will electricity work then?” Colonel Lange queried the entire team.

They glanced around at one another.

“In theory it should work,” Nina answered first. “If the voltage and amperage is sufficient, it should fry whatever neural connections got made through the crystals.”

“But it will require experiments to determine if it will work and the calibrations,” Arliss added.

“Why do they get to experiment?” Adrian darkly mumbled.

“Because if those experiments fail they're not unleashing a new horror on the world, Adrian. That's why,” Padma snapped before anyone else could answer.

“Let's remain civil,” Colonel Lange interjected before a seeming verbal altercation broke out.

Natalie saw the anger in Padma's features and wondered what conversations the two already completed. Pucey glowered at Bray, but the woman did not flinch or look away. Overhead one of the surgical lamps began to flicker. It spoke to the tension between the magi. The normies glanced upward.

“Padma, Adrian,” Amanda said in a more gentle but firm tone.

Just as the two faced the colonel, a horrible squeal echoed through the operating room. Everyone except the guard raised theirs hands to cover ears. Natalie felt her eyes squint in reaction.

“Sorry, sorry,” a crackling voice said. “Volume was on high. Colonel Lange?”

“What?” The elder woman grunted.

“We have a situation out here we think you need deal with,” the male voice said in an uncertain voice.

“By any chance do you see what we're doing?”

“Yes, Colonel, I'm in the observation room,” the man replied, “but I really, really think you want to see this.”

“What's so important about it?” Colonel Lange grumbled let her dissatisfaction become audible.

“Two people just showed up.”

“If it's General Newcomb, have him wait in my office or set him up in one of the visitor suites,” she ordered.

“Colonel, I don't think you understand,” the man said in a slightly panicked voice. “These two just literally showed up, and then they started puking all over the place. They look pretty beat up.”

“What in the blazes are you talking about?” Colonel Lange inquired in a testy manner.

Padma looked wildly about and caught Natalie's eyes. She tried to convey something in silence that Natalie could not understand. Natalie frowned.

“Ma'am, listen: two guys appeared out of nowhere in one of the halls. They landed on their hands and knees, and started throwing up all over the place. One of ‘em was holding a book, and the other said they just got back from China. I think the black guy was here before,” the soldier explained.

However, as soon as he said China, Colonel Lange, Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins, and Major Bray sprang into action. The three women ran to the door, fumbled with the intricate locking mechanism, and then darted into the vestibule and out into the hall through the exterior double doors. The rest of the of the assembled in the operating theater started muttering as the trio all but disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

“In the name of Saint Mungo, Denny, hold him still,” Ronin ordered his friend.

“Mon Dieu... tant de... morte,” Captain Desrochers said in a whisper from lips turned nearly as pale as his face. His eyes stared forward and did not blink while his legs thrashed as Ronin attempted first aid.

“Just relax, Captain, we'll take care of you,” Dennis said in a strained voice while shifting the man so his head rested in the wizard's lap.

Blood seeped from a neck bite onto Dennis' Sherpa-style pants, but it hardly mattered. He stared down at the mortally injured man, and then quietly slid his sword out of the scabbard and lay it next to his leg. He caught Ronin's eye, and the man slowly shook his head. Ronin held a roll of gauze against a deep bite wound on the Frenchman's upper left thigh. The two other bites, the one on he neck and one on the arm, also bled at a prodigious rate, but the injury on the leg proved most severe.

“Dennis, the captain...”

“I know,” Dennis interrupted as his emotions roiled. “Just... can we make him... comfortable?”

Ronin shrugged.

Further along the ridge Dennis stared Dean as the man patently did not want to witness what unfolded. The dark-skinned wizard faced the valley. He appeared immobile. Neither Dennis nor Ronin knew if friendship between the English wizard and the French soldier existed or to what extent. Since beginning the journey, they learned precious little about Dean Thomas and the road he traveled that got him to that point.

“Je ne... peux pas ressentir... le vent,” Captain Desrochers mumbled.

The man weakly coughed. Dennis watched as Ronin swapped out a blood soaked roll of gauze for a new roll. He also became intensely aware of all the colors around him that contrasted with the ghostly pallor of the captain. Unbidden, a clock started to count down in Dennis' head. The man would bleed out, he assumed, and then die. Dennis thought back to when they first arrived in the valley as their mission dictated.

Earlier that morning wind swept down from the mountains into the valley and brought with it a small chill. At that elevation even summer only produced less cold conditions. The soldiers and wizards stood on the crag that still bore traces of camp from years before. Signs of a small fire and bullet casings lay on the hard, solid ground. At a point in the past two other wizards used the same position to scout the same location and, if recorded memories correctly served, for the same purpose. The ledge which the seven people occupied sat high enough on the hill to make it cumbersome for the undead to scale, but not impossible. The distance between the outcropping and the shambling creatures meant the zed would not detect the ambient magical field surrounding the wizards. It also offered the best vantage point to survey the mostly barren vale and the numerous zombies milling around on the valley floor.

Two soldiers stood stock still: one an older, sinewy Frenchman, and the other a bulky black German. Each sported a unit patch on the right arm of their camouflage winter duty jacket. On a shield with an olive green background and yellow piping sat a lighter green skull with a black service knife sticking out the top and three gold thunderbolts behind the knife. It spoke to the purpose of the small squad that made its way into the Chinese side of the Himalayan Mountains. Behind the scouts two more soldiers, Americans, and three wizards waited for their report. All of them huddled further into their jackets when wind blew.

Since arriving the day before, Dennis spent considerable hours contemplating a workable plan to get inside the base and retrieve the notebook without, he hoped, any further loss of life. The deaths of Corporal Guō and Sergeant Huber continued to reverberate among the small company. Dennis got the feeling everyone, with the possible exception of Dean, felt some responsibility for the tragic event. He could see in it Ronin's eyes every time the man looked at one of the soldiers. Conversely, it did not seem like the military personnel blamed the wizards for the incident: they appeared to take it as one of the risks of the mission. Regardless, Dennis did not want to lose anymore people in the venture.

“How does it look?” He finally called out to Captain Desrochers.

“It is as you said: ze door is open and zere are many undead roaming about,” the captain replied.

Sergeant Cleaves, the German soldier with almost preternatural sight, leaned over and whispered something to the captain. Desrochers nodded.

“Cleaves wishes to tell you zere maybe more zed in base than we can see.”

Dennis hunkered down into a squat and began to absentmindedly doodle in the dirt with a rock. After a few minutes, the rest of the team gathered around him. Once again a pang of guilt that he usurped Dean Thomas' position shot through him. Once again Dean did not appear to care in the least. He looked up from his doodle at the expectant faces.

“Right,” Dennis said in a half-sigh. “We saw what's at the mouth of the valley, and we'd be totally mental to attract their attention, so whatever we do has to be done inside the base.”

“How d'yall ‘spect to get in there if all them zombies are itching to get a bite out of you?” Corporal Davis inquired, and he managed to hit the nail on the head in a rather homespun manner.

“That's the six hundred and forty galleon question, isn't it?” Dennis rejoined.

“What if we distract them like we did in Edinburgh?” Ronin suggested.

It instantly became a workable solution to one of their problems. Dennis shook his head for failing to think of it himself. In the meanwhile Ronin answered questions as to how they tricked the undead in the faraway city. It made perfect sense, and Dennis began to think it through. He immediately hit upon two issues.

“It's brilliant idea, but there are problems,” he told his compatriots when the explanation ended. “First, we need to make noise as well as motion, and, second, we need materials.”

“What about our mess kits?” Corporal Kowalski recommended, and she glanced around. Several eyes turned toward her. “Made out of aluminum, but if we sting ‘em up right, they should make enough noise.”

“And that leads to the second issue: we don't have any sticks or poles or any means to tie the kits to them,” Dennis completed his list of concerns.

“Ich sah einige verkümmerte Bäume weiter zurück.” Sergeant Huber said.

Everyone tuned to the captain who translated: “He says zere are – ‘ow you say – minor... small trees he saw some ways ago.”

Cleaves angled his body and pointed along the ridge they followed to get to the valley, and then made a motion like water falling over a cliff. The other soldiers nodded in understanding. Dennis made a guess that the African-German man indicated a location.

“Denny, I can go with Cleaves to find scrub trees and then apparate us back... or out of there if we run into trouble,” Ronin offered.

“Don't let the zed get too close or your blast stick won't work,” Dennis reminded his friend.

Corporal Davis snickered at the use of the phrase he coined regarding the wizards wands.

“How do you know this will work?” Dean asked, breaking his long silence.

The tall, lean wizard became muted when they arrived in the correct vale. Dennis watched as the man scanned the area and concluded the memories of Ron Weasley took on a greater poignancy. It did not take much to assume the old campsite markings they found belonged to the wizards who first came to search the base. Dennis guessed Dean looked at the surroundings through the eyes of another person.

“Worked a treat in Edinburgh. Gave us a chance to get away from a fairly large horde of the blighters choking up a street,” Ronin replied.

“I've used the same trick dozen of times, and it never fails to work,” Dennis provided more anecdotal evidence. “The only hitch I can see is if the zed get their hands on the decoys. You know how they are with magicked items.”

The wizards silently confirmed the observations with a bob of their heads. The soldiers listened, shifting their glances around from speaker to speaker. The similar yet strangely different uniforms of the soldiers caught Dennis' eye. Only the Americans appeared dressed in the same style of military gear. The French and German outfits carried different hues and colors in the camouflage pattern. Even the backpacks, utility belts, and weapons seemed vague approximations of one another. Regardless of the person, all the gear showed signs of exceptional care and some wear.

When no one offered an alternative or complained, Dennis continued: “All right. While Ro and Cleaves go after the sticks, the rest of us will take apart our eating kits. Mine's in a small drawstring sack, and we can cut those up to use as ties. Any questions?”

None got put forward.

“Let's get to it.”

The team broke apart as thought rehearsed. Ronin and Sergeant Cleaves trotted away following along the path upon which the group arrived. The remainder then began digging through their packs. The military mess kits rested in black mesh bags including Dean's, while the ones Dennis and Ronin purchased in Norwich used sand-colored canvas sacks. The team quickly and, most importantly, quietly disassembled the gear. The drawstrings from each got cut into two lengths. Captain Desrochers displayed a skill for carefully taking apart the carry bags. Those, too, got cut into strips. By the time they finished, Dennis calculated they prepared enough for at least ten decoys. Then it came down to waiting for the outbound mission to return with sticks.

Fifteen minutes later the search party returned, arms laden with enough sticks of varying lengths and thicknesses to complete the task. Captain Desrochers reminded the entire squad to work as quietly as possible. Only a few errant clanks escaped the group as they bound bowls, cups, cutlery, and plates to the sticks with strips of light canvas and mesh. The completed decoys got carefully placed in a backpack emptied for the purpose. All told nine of the devices got made before binding strips ran out. The total number pleased Dennis because he knew they would lay a string of decoys to draw the zed in the valley a fair ways out.

“Right, now I'll head out...”

“Not bloody likely,” Ronin cut in without hearing the rest of Dennis' statement. “Cleaves and I just got back from a scouting mission, and we found the perfect places to put the lures. It'll take you an hour to locate what we already discovered.”

“Jah,” Sergeant Cleaves agreed with a firm nod of his head.

Dennis could not refute the logic, noted again the German appeared to understand English even if he would not speak it, and asked: “How long to set and activate the decoys?”

“Half an hour or so, I guess,” Ronin said and glanced at the German sergeant.

Cleaves waggled his head back and forth as if to indicate the task could require a longer or shorter period or time.

“Well, there you go then, Ro. The rest of us will kip back and make a plan for getting inside,” Dennis replied with a nonchalance he did not actually feel. “We'll have Dean take us through what he knows and see if we can narrow the hunt down a bit.”

“Godspeed, boys,” Captain Desrochers said to soldier and wizard as Sergeant Cleaves gingerly shouldered the backpack containing the decoys.

The two then took off at a light trot once more in the direction from which they first arrived. The rest of squad watched until they disappeared behind a rise jutting forward from the main mountain side. After which Dennis turned to Dean.

“Time to spill all you've got hid up in your head from what Ron saw,” Dennis firmly informed his fellow wizard who began to scowl.

“Like what?” Dean grumbled in return.

“Like any floor plan you can remember so we've got some idea where to head inside of that place,” the strawberry-blonde haired man said and jerked his head toward base, the entrance of which could not be seen due to the rise of the crag.

With great hesitation Dean squatted, grabbed a stone, and began to trace in the dirt. The soldiers and wizard closed the circle. They wordlessly watched as the gaunt, African-descended wizard sketched. At points Corporal Kowalski would lean over and whisper in Corporal Davis' ear, and the Oklahoman would either nod or shake his head. Desrochers watched the two. Dennis tried not to get distracted. He started peppering Dean with questions regarding the layout of the base.

“It was mostly just long halls and doorways,” Dean testily replied after the sixth clarifying question got lobbed at him. “They got in after taking out out a dozen or so zed...”

“Only twelve?” Kowalski interjected.

“Fifteen, twenty... I don't know. It's not like the fucking memories are crystal clear,” the wizard snapped at her. “Ron wasn't concentrating on counting: he just wanted to survive, get out, get home... home.”

The manner in which Dean said the final word sounded like heartbreak. The stories of the dangers faced by Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger remained legendary. Moreover, Ron constantly faced his fears as he supported his friends. In many respects, Dennis privately thought Ronald Weasley the bravest of the trio. Weasley always seemed to appreciate and understand the enormous risks the threesome took while Potter charged forward and Granger plotted. The visage frozen on Dean's face appeared to reflect Ron's thoughts at that time while preparing to enter zed central.

“Dean,” and Dennis carefully said the name, “did their presence... activities here cause something to happen?”

“Zed, Denny. Zed came after them,” the man told him and looked pained. “Somewhere below. Look, what Ron saw... not even a quarter of the zombies out there right now were there when they got here.”

“Zen we might be walking into a pit of undead?” Captain Desrochers inquired.

“We are,” Dennis confirmed. “Any idea how many, Dean?”

Dean shook his head back and forth while saying: “Once Harry and Ron heard them approaching, it was already too late. They made it out of that lab and got, maybe... I can't quite tell, but maybe halfway back to the entrance ‘fore Harry fell. Ron... made it a little farther. He tried disapparating, but you know what those damn zed do to our magic. It's why he got bit all those time before he made it out.”

As he spoke Dean jabbed at the ground pointing out the locations where he thought Harry died and Ron got mortally wounded. Dennis tried to calculate how far into the base they would need to travel, and the distance took on a daunting aspect. However, whatever the notebook contained seemed important enough to send multiple missions, and Dean appeared hellbent to find it. Although his fellow wizard said little as to the contents, either because Ron did not know or the memory did not get transferred, Dean inferred it may contain the key to defeating the zed. That alone gave Dennis reason to commit himself to the venture. The devastation he saw in England, across western Europe, and into the Middle East did not make for a promising future.

Dennis snickered once, drawing looks from the others, as he began to plan. He spoke his thoughts aloud. The soldiers added their expertise, and Dennis reminded them to use bayonets only when in the confines of the base. The success of infiltrating the Chinese laboratory hinged on the success of Ronin and Sergeant Cleaves. He trusted his steadfast friend to know exactly what needed to be done. For nearly a year they fought side-by-side through one harrowing skirmish with the zed after another. Once done with that thought, he returned to plan. Those remaining on the ledge plied their minds as best they could.

“All set,” Ronin said in a pant when he and Sergeant Cleaves returned. “Set them in a line leading out of the valley. Betting on their habit of following one another to get the zed out of the way.”

“Good thinking,” Dennis commended his friend and smirked. “No Falkirk here, eh?”

Ronin rolled his eyes. The rest watched the exchange. Then the group carefully crept to the edge of the ledge to watch. The could see some commotion at the far end of the valley, and Sergeant Cleaves, eyes pressed to his binoculars, called out the movements. Captain Desrochers dutifully translated. It took over forty minutes, but soon the undead started shambling after one another in a long line as though they queued for a ride or a train no one could see. Much to Dennis' surprise, the valley actually began to empty. He glanced at Ronin and gave the man a thumb's up of approval while Corporal Davis clapped both the younger Wood brother and Sergeant Cleaves on the back.

“Bee-ewe-tee-full,” the man from United States said in a pleased drawl.

“Zis is very promising, no?” Captain Desrochers complimented the men in the odd manner some French used in turning basic statements into questions.

“It's a good start,” Dennis confirmed. “Listen: we head out in single file down the hill on the right side of the ledge just like we discussed. Ready?”

The soldiers went into immediate action. Sergeant Cleaves fell in line behind Corporal Kowalski who would use Corporal Davis' shoulder as a gun mount, the man at point, in case she needed to shoot. Dean got behind Dennis who stood behind Captain Desrochers following after the German sergeant, and Ronin brought up the rear.

“Okay, three or four feet apart, and try not to raise too much dust,” Dennis continued explaining the plan. “Don't yell if you fall and, for Barnaby's sake, don't drag anyone down with you. Clear?”

He received muted mumbles of agreement as everyone scanned the now more or less vacant valley as the zed continued to file out of the open end in search of the decoys.

“Okay, Carl, lead us out and stay on the far right side of the entrance.”

The corporal, a good soldier, did as commanded even though the order did not come from the unit commander. Over the days together it became obvious Dennis accrued extensive experience traveling in open zed country and fighting the undead. The soldiers long ago grew too accustomed to operating within a larger military force and structure. A smaller unit required different strategy and tactics. Thus, Dennis continued to assume the lead even with a captain present.

Seven people carefully made their way down the side of the mountain toward the valley floor. Despite their best efforts, a plume of powdered dirt continually circulated around their feet and knees. Small rocks and stones got dislodged and tumbled down the hill. However, it happened mostly in silence, and the distant zed never took notice. All members of the group kept their eyes locked on the destination across the valley. Even from their current position they could clearly see one door stood open while the other hung at a strange angle due to getting wrenched. The closer the unit approached, the more Dennis squinted and tried to peer inside. He could not penetrate the darkness of entryway.

They moved at a trot once they reached the valley floor. Corporal Davis kept the pace steady even though his rifle remained butted against his shoulder. He, Corporal Kowalski, and Sergeant Cleaves continually moved their weapons in a one-hundred and eighty degree horizontal arc from side to side. It appeared highly unlikely any zed would take them by surprise. In the same vein, Dennis, Ronin, and Dean drew their weapons. Like a good Englishman, Dean wield a cricket bat reinforced with strips of steel. The discoloration along the entire length of the bat testified its purpose. Thus armed and at the ready, the group made their way to the base entrance. When they got within twenty-five meters, Corporal Davis raised a hand and made a fist. The company came to a stop.

“Movement inside,” he hissed loud enough for everyone to hear.

Sergeant Cleaves switched from rifle to binoculars in a flash. He peered into the dark void. As he did, a shadowy figure lurked back and forth in the opening of the mountain base. They waited until the Sergeant lowered his looking glasses.

“Es gibt mehr als eine, aber ich kann nicht sagen, wie viele,” the bulky German said. “Möglicherweise fünf oder sechs.”

“He counts half a dozen so far,” Captain Desrochers converted the words for the other.

“Cleaves said five or six,” Ronin intoned.

“At the least,” Desrochers responded while the sergeant nodded.

Dennis stood still and stared at the entrance. He did not like walking into a darkened portal with an unknowable amount of undead in the immediate vicinity. It felt like a trap to him. However, he also knew the situation to be unavoidable if they wished to accomplish their goal. Dennis huffed once.

“What?” Ronin prodded.

“We flank the door and try to get them to come out,” he rejoined as he thought about the options. “We should be able to pick them off as they walk past. No shots: silent weapons only.”

In a matter of seconds the soldiers each attached a bayonet to the front of the rifles.

“I don't like the looks of this, Denny,” Ronin quipped.

“It's like Newton,” Dennis agreed.

“Or Crieff.”

Dennis froze at the name, and then shook it off. The mention of the damned town that took the life of Katie Bell put him edge. He gripped his sword more tightly.

“Might as well have a go at it,” he said after a few seconds. “Forward, Carl.”

Corporal Davis began moving forward, except he swung wide of the door so the zed inside would find it difficult to detect the group. They walked in as much silence as possible. More clues as to the destiny of the base began to accumulate. Too many human bones lay widely scattered in bits. Pieces of clothing and personal effects sat strewn amidst the human wreckage. Dennis saw name tags with faded faces of people who probably perished years before. When they neared the entrance of the base, the sounds of zed bumping into walls, occasional groaning or grunting, emerged from the dim portal. The seven people arrived at the mountain side wall and pressed themselves flat against it. Corporal Davis looked back along the line.

“I'll be bait,” Dennis whispered and moved away from the rest before anyone could protest.

He retreated backward a short way while digging out his wand. When ten meters separated him from entrance, he move directly in front of it. Dennis held up his sword and waved it around.

“Lunchtime,” he said to the darkened portal, and then let out with a bubbling chuckle.

Undead began to emerge and walk toward him with an uneven gate. The creatures appeared dusty and gaunt as though coming out of storage. A few moaned, but not loud enough to attract too much attention. Seven of the miserable things came forward, aiming for Dennis, and ignoring those on the side. When the train of zed wandered by, the other members of the team sprang into action. A bat, bayonets, and a mace beat, stabbed, and smashed the undead. Because they lacked any real thought, the zed simply turned around when the assault began. It proved the difference between the living and the dead: even a half-formed plan would almost always beat the unthinking monsters. Only the sheer numbers of the zed gave them any sort of tactical advantage. In little over a minute the remains of the creatures lay broken on the valley floor.

“This was the easy part. Now we go in there,” Dennis told the rest of the group when he rejoined them. “We move slow and careful. No wands. Torches only.”

Davis and Kowalski threw puzzled looks at each other, and Ronin said: “I think you call them flashlights.”

The two dug out the blackened aluminum devices from their belt pouches. The small but intense beams flickered to life. The American soldiers then slowly turned and aimed their lights into the entry. Some five meters past the entrance two more zed staggered in the confines of the hallway. The soldiers began to advance.

“Quietly,” Dennis reminded the two eager Americans. “And take them out before they can make a sound.”

Stepping into the base felt to Dennis as though he entered a different dimension. A sharp edge defined where the sunlight ended and the gloom of the hall began. Paper, scraps of clothing, dirt, chunks of unidentifiable stuff, and the detritus of chaos cluttered the floor. Discolored hand prints and smears of who-knew-what dotted the walls. The long hall slipped into darkness well before it reached the end, and only the occasional sweep of a torch revealed where it took a ninety-degree turn ten meters ahead. The two errant zombies appeared to pick up the sent of the magic users, and one let out with a soft groan.

Cleaves, Davis, and Kowalski raced toward undead duo in a stunningly silent manner. Bayonets jabbed through the heads, and the cracking sound of the violated skulls could be heard by all. The zed dropped to the floor. The soldiers held their ground for a moment, motionless, and then signaled the others to advance after five seconds. As they passed doors, both Ronin and Dean tried the handles. Most remained locked. When Dean found one unlocked, he started to turn the knob but Dennis stopped him.

“Do you really want to find out if anything is behind that door?” He asked his colleague.

Dean frowned at him for two seconds, and then released the handle. Together they continued to walk toward the congregation of soldiers, and Ronin arrived before them. When the captain and the two lagging wizards joined in, they formed a huddle.

“Dean, the book is somewhere in these halls?” Dennis asked for final confirmation.

“Yeah, I think. Seems like it anyway from Ron's memories,” the dark-skinned wizard stated. “Not certain exactly sure where, but I think we're pretty bleeding close.”

“Alright. Keep your eyes sharp. You heard Dean describe the notebook before: hardbound, black cover, and some gold writing on the lower right corner. It's might not be in the best of condition after lying around here for a couple of years.”

Determined and set faces met his words. No one asked any questions, so Dennis nodded his head. The soldiers took lead and swept the area before them with their torches as they advanced. Dennis found his ears straining for any sound and his eyes for any movement. The five meter walk to the end of the hall felt as though it lasted a small eternity. When the group got to the corner, Sergeant Cleaves held up his hand in the signal to stop. All did. He peered around the corner and brought his own torch to bear. The rest could see him survey the situation. When he leaned back, the African-German soldier held up four fingers with his free hand, and then made a jerking walking motion with two fingers. The sign made perfect sense.

“Right. Ro, Davis, Kowalski, and me in front,” Dennis all but mouthed the plan he immediately formulated. “Cleaves, aim your torch at the ceiling. The rest work between us.”

“Why you lot?” Dean queried and pointed at Dennis and Ronin.

The two singled out wizards held up their weapons. Ronin's mace looked nearly invisible in the gloom. The edge of Dennis' sword gleamed in the illumination of Corporal Davis' light. It took one heartbeat before Dean nodded his head in understanding. Next to him Corporal Kowalski wore an evil grin.

“Remember: contain, kill, move on.”

Simple but effective instructions Dennis learned from scores of battles with the undead. He felt pressure rise in his chest and tried to suppress the urge to snicker. With that he turned, nudged Corporal Davis. The man oozed around the corner, followed by his fellow American, and then Dennis and Ronin. Sergeant Cleaves performed as asked, and the light reflected from the dingy ceiling tiles proved more than adequate. The four undead stood perfectly silhouetted. Dennis raised his sword, the giggle escaped regardless of his best efforts, and he trotted forward with the other three.

They reached the zed in a lose semi-circle with Captain Desrochers, Sergeant Cleaves, and Dean Thomas providing support. The soldiers adapted to the fighting conditions and adopted a new style. Both Davis and Kowalski jabbed upward with either rifles, plunging the bayonets through the lower jaw and into the head. Then the lifted the butt end of the weapons, and the necks of zed snapped as the force and leverage got plied to their heads. Dennis, while swinging his sword and cutting through the top of a zombie skull, looked on with an impressed expression. He liked the soldiers even better.

“Merde, more,” Captain Desrochers blurted.

Everyone looked further down the hall. Six meters away a clump of zed shambled toward them from an intersecting hallway. Dennis made a quick count of the shadowy creatures. At least eight aimed in their direction. One issued a groan.

“We need to stop them now before they attract any others,” Dennis ordered, and started jogging forward to meet the new menace.

Ronin kept pace without needing to be told. The two friends began to perform their dance of destruction as the soldiers raced in to help. Three more undead entered the fray. Dennis began to thrust and cut. He chopped down two in short order. He raised his arm to strike a third and halted.

“Oh, fuck,” he dryly muttered.

Dennis paused. Before him stood a face he memorized as a student at Hogwarts. Although the glasses went missing, the scar on the forehead stood out in relief against the gray skin. Eyes no longer green but frosted over with death stared blankly forward. The mouth opened, issuing a hiss, as the figure lunged at Dennis. Instinct took over in the living wizard. He brought his arm down and sliced deeply into the neck of the now undead Harry Potter. The corpse of the famed wizard crumpled to the floor as the spinal cord got severed. The words of Oliver Wood when he dispatched the last of Katie Bell rang through Dennis' mind. He jabbed downward with his sword, into the left eye of the zombified Harry, and twisted it once. The grinding jaw of the renowned man slowly stopped chewing the air. Dennis looked down at the remains of hero of the wizarding world.

He turned, leaned against the wall, and began to vomit. Behind him the fight continued. Dennis' mind filled with horror as he realized what he did. Logic warred with his emotions, telling him Harry Potter died years before, but the image of his sword biting into the neck of Harry made him feel like a murderer. Something from his childhood died inside of him. Harry always treated Dennis and his brother Colin kindly if impatiently while in school. Sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry sought out Dennis and told him he considered Colin a hero for his bravery in standing up to the forces of Lord Voldemort. It remained one of the singular best memories Dennis got during his final years at Hogwarts. He threw up again at the notion he cut down the man who gave him what scant comfort he received after the war.

The fighting ended without any more participation from Dennis. Ronin and Dean raced over to where he propped himself against the wall, a puddle of puke at his feet, and tried to center himself. Both gasped when they saw the corpse at his feet. A hand gently landed on his shoulder, and Dennis recognized it.

“You didn't kill him, Denny,” Ronin softly told him. “You gave his body peace.”

“You did what had to be done, mate,” Dean gruffly added. “Damn it, Harry!”

It quickly dawned on Dennis that Dean Thomas shared the same class and house at Hogwarts with Harry Potter, and the man knew the famed wizard far better than he. While he thought that, the soldiers gathered near them. Dennis heard Ronin efficiently explain the situation. Dennis tried to nurse the wounded teenager deep within his being, the one who looked to the man whose body he slew as symbol of what it meant to be a real wizard.

“Listen, Dennis, I knew Harry and he'd've done the same for you. Would've considered it his duty,” Dean added a few moments later.

In an odd fashion being told Harry Potter would kill his zombie self out of a sense of responsibility made Dennis feel a touch better. 

“I know zis is a – ‘ow you say – emotional time, but... ze dead are not finished,” Captain Desrochers said with a strange trill in his voice.

Dennis heard a call to duty. He stuffed his wounded feelings deep into the pit of his stomach. They got added to the pile with which he would need to contend on another day. Right now the living needed his sword and thinking. After a final glance at the remains of Harry, Dennis turned and saw the threat the French captain pointed out. Several zed came around the corner at the end of the hall. Dennis turned his feelings regarding Harry Potter into fury, and he went after the zed with a single-minded purpose to avenge the fallen man. He heard voices behind him, but did not pay attention. Dennis threw himself into the battle. The element just broken inside of him seemed to pierce and stab at his raw emotions. His internal grip began to slip.

Not since his own parents died because of a zed invasion did Dennis fight with such naked, raw hatred and rage. He hated the zed took away his parents. He hated the zed took Harry and Ron away from their families. He hated that Oliver Wood lost a child because of the disruption to normal life the undead caused. He hated the way in which zombies would not let him exercise the magic he so dearly loved. He hated the untold death and destruction the undead visited on the world. With each slash of his sword, he felt it a blow against the mindless injustice suffered by all. Dennis did not hear the maniacal giggling pouring from his mouth as he chopped and hacked at the walking atrocities. Not until a set of strong arms pulled him back from the mutilated forms of the undead did he pause.

“Jesus Christ, man, get a fucking grip,” Corporal Davis growled into his head. “Those ones ain't ever gonna move again.”

Dennis sucked in breath as the words sank into his brain. He lost control, he knew it, and his actions could invite disaster. He struggled against himself as the brawny soldier held him fast. Gradually his searing fury abated. It took a few moments before he sagged.

“Y'all ever come at me with that sword, and I swear to god I'll fucking blow your head off,” the corporal coolly whispered into his ear. “You're a goddamn nightmare with that thing.”

Dennis nodded and pushed at the man until he regained his feet. He turned and saw the expressions on the faces of his compatriots. All of them, even Ronin, appeared both awed and horrified by his outburst. Not a trace of apology or guilt appeared in his mind.

“Let's get this over with,” Dennis grumbled at the group while a rictus stretched his mouth.

The others nodded. Dennis spun on his heel and faced down the hallway. Four meters away the intersection loomed. Once again Sergeant Cleaves aimed his light at the ceiling. Dennis did not see any undead where the current hallway formed a tee with adjacent one ahead. He slowly walked toward it. His sword arm felt heavy. He ignored it. As his sense realigned with the needs at hand, caution stole into his movements. Time and again buildings configured in such a manner proved both tricky and and often deadly since any number of undead could be hiding around the corner. He recalled the undead came from the right side of the hall, so Dennis veered to the left until he started to hug the wall. From the sounds issuing from behind, he could tell the others followed his lead.

Dennis raised a hand and pointed toward the right branch of the intersection. Sergeant Cleaves aimed the light in that direction. Everyone waited. After a few moments, Dennis perceived the telltale signs of undead: a rustling sound coupled with displaced shadows. As he confirmed his sighting, Dennis held up a hand, then three fingers, and lowered one digit with each beat of his heart. After the third, he darted forward with sword raised.

The team entered the right-hand hall and confronted half a dozen zombies. The undead spun to face them and began to groan. Dennis, Ronin, Corporals Davis and Kowalski went into action. The zed began to fall from their onslaught. Behind the first six two more appeared. Dennis cut down the last in front of him to react the new duo.

“Scheiße!” Sergeant Cleaves shouted from behind.

Dennis pivoted on the ball of his left foot, and instantly understood the alarm in the sergeant's tone. Behind the man lay a hallway packed with undead. They creatures fought against one another to get turned around. Dennis immediately disregarded the two undead behind him and raced to the new, larger threat. The slim hope he could get the undead to create a virtual logjam with their bodies rose in his mind. As he tried to reach a good vantage point to unleash a bit a magic, a zed got its hands on Sergeant Cleaves who tried to push it back with his rifle. When that failed, the man raised the weapon.

“No!” Dennis shouted, but not soon enough.

A roar of thunder filled the hallway as the rifle discharged. Then a second round got released. Dennis' ears began to ring in a painful fashion. He saw the others recoil from the blasts. Cleaves managed to take off the head of the undead attacking him, but the man appeared disoriented. Dennis felt the same as he dealt the with deafness caused by the concussion of the two shots. Then he felt a third as Corporal Kowalski also took aim and fired. He could not imagine why she would do that. His hearing now at a complete loss, Dennis watched at the woman walked forward and continued to fire at the zed in the left branch of the hall. The undead dropped. She continued to advance.

“Stop shooting!” Dennis tried to yell, but could not even hear his own voice.

Sergeant Cleaves struggled to keep the zed off of him. Suddenly a look of pain came into existence on the dark features of the man. Dennis could tell the man screamed. He studied the scene. A zed bit deeply into Cleaves right forearm, and it caused the man to drop his rifle. As if a cue, more undead encircled the man pawing at him and snapping their jaws. His torch fell on the floor, got kicked around, and created a confusing strobe effect. Corporal Kowalski, however, did not go to his rescue. She continued her march to some unknown spot, firing her weapon with each step. The concussion waves pressed against Dennis' skull. He began to move toward her as she ducked down. Zed closed in on the woman. Her actions defied logic.

Seconds later something sailed through the air. Black and white flashed as the object traveled until it landed on the floor close to Ronin's foot. Ronin tried to reach it, but undead squirmed out of the hall and lurched toward the wizard. The younger Wood brother wound up kicking the object down the hall from which they approached as he half-turned and brought his mace to bear. He smashed the zed in the face and knocked it back into the others that followed. The younger Wood brother sprinted after what Dennis guessed must be the notebook. He craned his head to face Corporal Kowalski, but only a knot of zed intent on something remained where she once stood.

Dean Thomas roughly hit his side, and the two of them lurched toward the exit hall. Dennis saw Dean held firm onto Captain Desrochers' jacket; thus making it three people who nearly lost their balance. Desrochers appeared terrified as he stared at the intersection. Dennis followed his line of sight until he saw Corporal Davis in a pitched battle against four undead. Two managed to grab onto his rifle, and he used it to try and force them backward. Unfortunately, the creatures from the left side of the intersection started to draw near the man. Dennis tried to yell, but he only heard a thin sound. Dean shoved him again and seized his arm. While the undead converged on Carl Davis, the African-British wizard did not allow Dennis to assist. Dennis got roughly dragged along. Davis soon disappeared from view.

They ran and stumbled in equal measure as the foul monsters turned their attention on the surviving members of the party. As a result, the trio collided with Ronin who got knocked forward and hit the floor in a sprawl. Ronin shouted something unintelligible as Dennis hauled his friend to his feet and began to run away from the converging mob of undead. A furious expression crossed Ronin's face, but Dennis did not wait. He sheathed his sword and drew out his wand. He caught Dean's eye, waved the wand, and Dean snatched at the edge of Dennis' jacket. The four men scrambled further down the hall trying to put distance between themselves and the mass of undead. Dennis repeatedly attempted to disapparate. Only when several meters lay between him and the zed did the spell finally take hold.

One hiss, pop, and twist into the nether later, four men landed with a thud on the ledge of stone that served as their base. Dean immediately began to swear as he released Captain Desrochers, but he got outdone by Ronin, who grabbed Dennis by the front of his jacket.

“Why did you run into me? Damn it, you made me drop the bleeding book!” Ronin shouted into the face of the man with strawberry-blonde hair.

“And lose you to the fucking zed!” Dennis yelled right back.

Ronin blinked at him. Dennis roughly pushed him away. Dean walked over the edge of the rock lip while he grumbled to himself.

“Je ne me... sens pas bien,” Captain Desrochers said in a weak voice.

Dennis glanced down at the man lying next to him. Blood flowed out of the man from several locations on his arms, his neck, and his legs. Dennis sat up and hauled the captain toward him until the head rested on his lap.

“Hold tight, sir,” he rejoined and tried to sound calm. “We'll get you fix up in a flash.”

“Denny?” Ronin asked as he looked over the wounded soldier.

“Just get something, Ro!”

Ronin ran to the tents while Dennis brushed hair from the eyes of the captain. Desrochers clearly existed in a world of pain from the injuries. The wizard could not help but note how much blood issued from the man's leg. He considered using a healing spell, but remembered the zed infection tended to respond poorly to magic. His eyes shifted to Dean. Dean stared at him for a moment, and turned his head to again face the valley. A minute later Ronin returned with a medical kit. He pulled it open and spilled the contents onto the ground. After finding the scissors and roll of gauze, he tried to position the captain's leg, but the man thrashed when the material of his pants made contact with the bite wounds.

“In the name of Saint Mungo, Denny, hold him still,” Ronin blurted

“Mon Dieu... tant de...morte,” Captain Desrochers whispered from pale lips as he looked at something in the distance.

“Just relax, Captain, we'll take care of you,” the wizard cradling him said in a thick voice.

Dennis quietly slid his sword out of the scabbard and lay it next to his leg as the captain continued to bleed. He and Ronin exchanged a glance, and Ronin shook his head while trying to stem the bleeding of the leg. The bites on the neck and arms bled almost as much.

“Dennis, the captain...”

“I know,” Dennis cut him off as his emotions roiled anew. “Just... can we make him... comfortable?”

Ronin shrugged.

Dennis again stared at Dean, but Dean remained stationary.

“Je ne... peux pas ressentir... le vent,” Captain Desrochers mumbled.

A small cough wracked the pallid man as Ronin did his best. Tremors rippled through the soldier, and it caused Dennis to begin counting down. Many times in the past he waited for the inevitable in similar situations. The captain shook again. After another minute, the man's body seemed to stiffen.

“Si... froid,” Desrochers muttered, and then his head lolled to one side.

“Dennis,” Ronin urgently whispered.

Dennis answered by lowering his hand to his side and taking hold of the sword. He would not strike until he knew for certain Captain Desrochers no longer existed. Movement to the side made him look, and he watched Dean walk further away. Dennis sat perfectly still while he comforted what he knew to be a dead man. Ronin stood and backed up half a step. In a well practiced motion, he unslung his mace from the belt hook.

Whether a minute or ten passed Dennis could not guess. His senses focused on the still figure in his lap. His right hand grasped his sword at the ready. It felt like relief when the first sign came. The late Captain Desrochers twitched. The whole body felt like it spasmed. Dennis gingerly stood and the captain rolled off his lap. The figure thrashed again. A long, seemingly exhausted sigh, escaped from the bluish lips. Eyes flickered open. While still clear, the irises did not respond to the light and remained completely open. The form of the captain seized again, and a gurgle followed in the wake of the movement.

Dennis raised his arm, sword held high, and brought it down in a straight and swift movement. As regularly happened, he only mostly removed the head from the neck. It took a second swing to completely decapitate the captain. The head came free and blood, still warm and steaming in the cold mountain air, seeped from the severed neck. The head continued to move as the mouth gnashed at nothing.

“Denny?” Ronin asked.

As though he felt nothing for the man who proved a loyal comrade, Dennis used his foot to right the head so it faced upward. The skin on the features now appeared alabaster. The emotionally rent wizard wasted no time in driving his sword down into the eye socket of the head. He twisted it to one side and drove it further in. The jaw snap shut, but then gradually sagged open. Captain Desrochers went completely to his final peace.

The trio of wizards did not speak for over thirty minutes. Dennis damned himself for his overreaction at terminating the zombified body of Harry Potter. It led to further mistakes that nearly got all of them killed. He could not even begin to imagine what they would do without the muggle soldiers, all of whom he came like as people. Moreover, they missed their real objective. The notebook still resided in the damnable hallway surrounded by who knew how many zed. He thought again and again about the book and its position. It tortured Dennis to think eight very good people gave their lives trying to retrieve the notebook. It seemed so close, but unobtainable. He channeled his grief and pain into thinking.

“Denny?” Ronin said after another silent fifteen minutes lapsed.

“We can't stop here, Ro. We've got to see this through,” Dennis growled in return.

“How? It's still in that place and Merlin knows how many undead are around it. You'd have to clear the base out in order to get near that damn book!”

Dennis felt himself go rigid as his mind latched onto his friend's words. He slowly looked up and past Ronin toward Dean and in the direction of the compound. The plan gelled in his brain faster than he imagined it could or he would want. It seemed clear if, and Dennis admitted to himself, irrational. Few options lay before the last members of the mission.

“Dean!” Dennis yelled to the wizard. “Get over here. We've work to do!”

A surly, angry looking man approached them. Dennis noted Dean did not look at the dead captain in any manner. The three stood together with two staring at one.

“We need to go back,” Dennis stated without any preamble.

“You barking mad!” Dean spat him and tugged at his military jacket. “What? You want those things to kill all of us?”

The de facto leader of the trio stepped right into the personal space of Dean Thomas, his eyes narrowing, and he said through clenched teeth: “We've got an advantage right now. ‘Sides, if we don't at least try, you're going to die by those things anyway.”

The menace leaking out of Dennis became palpable. Dean looked away after a few seconds and backed up. Dennis did not relent. He stepped forward again.

“Right now we can draw them out, open up enough space for one or two of you to go in and get that wretched notebook. We either do this now or we just go and hide ‘til the dead find us,” Dennis seethed, and he made certain his tone conveyed the idea he called Dean a coward.

Dean flinched and replied: “How?”

Dennis related his plan. Ronin protested, but Dennis would not hear it. He told them what he would do, how he would do it, and his confidence the ploy would work. The scheme concluded with Ronin and Dean going back into the base in search of the book. Neither of the two looked pleased with the plan.

“Got a better idea?” Dennis challenged in a nasty fashion.

None got put forward. Dennis then finished fleshing out his scheme. Ronin continued to protest, but he got ignored. When Dennis laid out the final details, he glared at Dean.

“Might work,” the dark-skinned wizard murmured. “Might not work out to well for you, but it gives us a chance to get the notebook.”

“This is purely mental, Denny!” Ronin barked.

“What other choice do we have? It's now or never, Ro, and you know it like I do. We can't throw this chance away,” Dennis flatly stated and made certain it did not sound like a plea.

Ronin frowned.

“Let's go before they lose interest,” Dennis said, and the rage he felt at the loss of the soldiers burned in his stomach.

Without tolerating any further discussion, Dennis walked to the right side of the ledge. In the distance he could see a few zed shambling around the base entrance. It seemed to back-up his contention and plan. Then he started down. Ronin and Dean followed, and Ronin never stopped muttering complaints about the insanity of his friend's idea. The trio reached the valley floor and looped to the right in an imitation of the first attempt. Half way to their destination, Dennis halted. He faced Ronin.

“Trade me weapons,” he half-requested and half-ordered.

“What? Why? You're better with the sword,” Ronin refused.

“'Cause I'm going to need to bash heads instead of chopping necks, Ro. There's too good of chance the blade will get wedged if I'm in a rush,” Dennis answered with confidence. “The mace gives me a tactical advantage.”

Ronin eyed him in apparent disbelief. However, he unhooked the ancient, sturdy German mace and held it out. Dennis took off the sword belt and handed the entire contrivance, including his beloved blade, to his friend. Ronin stared it for several long moments before he allowed the exchange to take place.

“You're pretty damn good with it, Ro, and I know you won't lose it. Keep it safe for me.”

Ronin did not speak and only nodded his head. Dennis stared at the youngest Wood brother who became his closest and most trusted friend. A grin then spread across his mouth.

“Think I might get a kiss for luck?” He inquired.

Ronin rolled his eyes, shook his head, and answered: “When are you going to figure out I'm not gay, Denny?”

“Oh, I know, just... well, just.”

Ronin smirked. Before his expression could change, Dennis skipped away toward the base entrance. He let the image of Ronin's face linger in his brain. It gave him courage for what he knew could easily turn into a disaster for him.

As he neared the base, one of the zed moved around as if to greet him. Dennis reached into his jacked and pulled out his wand. Along with the image of the grin his friend gave him, the wizard reached deep into his memories. He thought of the day his brother Colin got his Hogwarts letter. Warmth blossomed in Dennis' chest. He recalled all the messages Colin sent home with the strange, moving pictures of the people and things he discovered at the school. Short descriptions got penciled on the back and proved as illuminating about his brother as it did the images. Within that first year Dennis learned an extensive amount about Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general. It prepared him for the letter bearing his name that arrived by owl the following year. Dennis laughed not with nervousness but with an unadulterated joy he felt.

“Expecto patronum!” He shouted into the chill wind blowing through the valley.

From his wand a huge cloud of magical vapor shot forward. As it left the tip of wood, it coalesced into an animal with which Dennis fell in love as a child. It became elongated, fins appeared, including one on top, and a horizontal fluked tail. A silvery dolphin took shape, and Dennis marveled anew both at the sea beast and the magic that created the likeness. In the face of the pain he felt at the loss of his comrades and one of his childhood heroes, Dennis embraced his profound love of life. It roared out of him and gave power to the ethereal dolphin. It swam through the air, gamboled and played, and tormented the singular desire of the undead. It sailed into the base entrance, spreading a white glow, and the sounds of piqued zed met it.

“Come on you, rotten bastards, lets see if you can catch it!” Dennis yelled at the zed while he mentally willed the patronus to return.

Return it did, and trailing behind the silvery aquatic animal came a virtual army of undead. Dozens got vomited from broken doorway, including the forms of three recently deceased soldiers. Dennis shoved aside the sadness that threatened to dispel his magical creation and remembered the excitement his brother showed when he learned Dennis would be joining him at the school. The dolphin blazed like the North Star.

Just before he turned and started to lead the undead away, Dennis glanced at his living friends. He smiled, nodded, and then proceeded to carry out his plan. He trotted in front of the long, thick line of zed that remained focused on the patronus. Mirth at the initial success of his plan filled him. Dennis laughed. Across the broad floor of the vale he led the undead battalion. They pushed and shoved each other in their attempt to either reach the image of the dolphin or the wizard casting the spell. The hope he cleared out the hallways remained steadfast. After all, he thought, nothing exuded a pure sense of magic more than a patronus. He thought of his brother's rambunctious, wily boxer dog he could conjure. It seemed perfect for Colin Creevey both then and the moment his younger brother called it to mind.

Dennis marched in front of the zed. From the east more creatures started to aim toward him as the sound of the mass of undead distracted them from the decoys deployed by Ronin and the late Sergeant Cleaves. It made sense to get close, but not too close, in order to keep them from going near the base. The magical dolphin played in the air above the heads of the undead, swimming up and down the procession, and those in the east angled in his direction. Gradually Dennis began to trot toward the west. Slowly the two masses of zed began to merge in their effort to catch the wizard who laughed with unmitigated glee. He threw his head back and sent his laughter soaring into the sky. Then a completely irreverent thought came to him. He laughed all the harder, but drew in his breath.

“Oh! I love a parade!” Dennis began to sing, and he led the undead further away from his friends.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Normie Epilogue**

Natalie sat in her quarters staring at the reams of data produced by the team. Once the wizards arrived with the notebook, something no one expected to happen regardless of what everyone hoped, the course of their research changed. It became the critical focus for all sides. It required both the medical staff and the magi to sort out. The first task came in rendering a proper translation of the notes written primarily in Chinese, but mixed with other languages as well. Bits of English, French, Latin, and, for reasons no one could explain at first, Japanese, got sprinkled in the text. It made deciphering parts of the book maddening, but it did not stop the team from digging into it with gusto. After six days of endless research, Natalie sat in her small plain-looking but welcoming living room. The coffee table sat before her stacked with reports.

“So this is what happens when you lose control over your initial design,” she said to the sheets in her hand prepared by Adrian Pucey and Dr. Ikani. “What made you so desperate to even think of this?”

The question loomed over the heads of everyone involved. It also remained unanswerable despite what the notebook contained. It spelled out what the Chinese military and the magi hoped to accomplish, yet the reasons why never got revealed. Natalie scrubbed her face with one hand as she tried to wrap her mental arms around the convoluted and almost dizzying language Ikani and Pucey, the strangest working duo on the base, concocted to explain what they discovered. No one doubted their contentious and sometimes very loud partnership probed farther and faster into the creation of the modus inferi, the new common term for the undead. Doctor Nyindu Ikani seemed to understand the physics behind magic while the magi Adrian Pucey possessed frightening levels of operational knowledge; knowledge Major Bray said came through rather dark and nefarious means. Their daily reports routinely silenced the joint meeting as everyone tried to fathom what the two uncovered.

“This reads like nonsense,” Natalie said as she stared at the sentence before her.

She understood that Ikani and Pucey figured out the spells employed to create the undead soldiers caused subtle and unknown counter-effects until it became too late. The spells, as near as she could tell, fed off of and reinforced one another. Ikani called it a para-sympathetic response to energy level fluctuations. Pucey clarified by stating the magi employed by the Chinese tried to contain each additional spell while maintaining the functional parameters of the preceding ones, but it proved an impossible task not readily apparent at the start. As the side-effects began to manifest and take over, the spells coalesced into a single, deadly variant. Colonel Miller and Major Caldwell summarized the effect by calling it the first magical super-virus capable of constant unrestrained self-propagation. No one argued. However, they all knew it presented a serious problem.

The knock at her door, one Natalie expected an hour earlier, pulled her from the comfortable seat. She set aside her reading and went to answer the summons. The faces of Colonel Lange and Major Bray, the lone commissioned magi in their ranks, appeared tired. Amanda Lange held up a bottle of wine.

“I can match that,” Natalie said as stood the side and beckoned her comrades to enter.

Two of the women headed for the living room while the third went to the kitchen to retrieve a corkscrew and appropriate glasses. When she entered the living room, her guests assumed the unofficial but often used seating arrangement. The lead officer sat in the armchair while the magi curled up on one end of the sofa. Both eagerly accepted the glasses offered to them while Natalie took on the task of opening the wine. While not a great vintage, it proved palatable. The host then sloshed a measure of the cherry-colored liquid into each glass.

“Salut,” Amanda said and held aloft her glass.

“Salut,” Natalie and Padma responded.

After a quick sip, Natalie resumed her place on the sofa. She glanced at the other two women who, like herself, all but lived in their military duty uniforms. Natalie admired anew the sigil created for magi commissioned in the British military. It started as a standard insignia for a British major, but the addition of the lion in profile brandishing a stick behind the crown marked it as something very different. The brass gleamed, and it gave evidence Padma Bray accepted and valued her role.

“Well, what did you make of that report?” Her commanding officer and close friend inquired while pointing to the Ikani-Pucey research.

“I think their plotting to overthrow the team by confusing the hell out of us,” Natalie replied, and it elicited a loud laugh from both women. “From what I can understand, it tells us more of the how, none of the why, and offers very little on how to combat these things.”

“Not quite, Nat. Look deeper into what Adrian wrote,” Padma said while shuffling the grin off her face.

“Care to explain because it's a heap of conflicting words as far as I can tell,” Amanda spoke before her junior officer could.

“It states what we've known all along with a few important details thrown in,” the lone Brit among the trio calmly, quietly stated. “First, they're trying to pinpoint the base spell, which I believe is the inferius spell... although neither Michael or Miriam agree.”

“I don't want to argue that point any more,” Natalie groaned.

“Neither do I, so why does it keep coming up?” Colonel Lange queried.

Padma eyed the two for a second and said: “Because if we can isolate the base spell, then we can begin to figure out which ones got added and in what order. Nat, you, Lou, and Nina need to sort out which bits of the brain are actually being affected by the spells. That will help create a road map.”

Natalie sighed.

“That's a tall order, Padma. Like everything involving the human body, it all works in concert. It's not like one part jumps up and says me first.”

Natalie smirked while Padma rolled her eyes. In private after-hours meetings, such as the one convened at the moment, they dismissed military formality and acted as equals. Amanda preferred open exchanges of information even if the debate got heated. However, she would not brook personal, ad hominem, attacks. Fortunately, the three currently occupying the living room never neared that level. It took the likes of Michael Corner or Lou Savini to really get the insults flying. The three women each took a drink from their respective glasses.

“Amanda, the biggest difference is that now we know what pieces are actually at work. It's clear which spells they used... even the ones they used that failed. We don't have to guess, but it doesn't do us any good unless we can suss out which bits are being affect by what spell,” the magi again made the case.

“But is there anything we can deduce right now that we can put to use in the field that will give the troops some sort of edge?” Amanda asked while glancing at her subordinates. “You know the battle isn't going well on the ground. There're too many of them and not enough of us. We need to provide soldiers something useful.”

“Well, we know what attracts the zed,” Padma stated. “And you heard what Dean and Ronin told us they did in the field.”

“Decoys. You want us to recommend we tell the troops to use decoys?” Natalie said and tried to disguise the sarcasm.

“Magical decoys means the zed are focused on that and not the people,” the Hindi-British woman rejoined in the same tone.

“That's not a bad idea,” Amanda muttered before her colleagues could start playfully sniping at one another.

“Ronin said he and Dennis used that trick quite a few times to get out of some nasty spots.”

Natalie paused. Padma raised the point of an attested and field tested tactic. Until the normie and magi worlds began to collude, no one ever thought of using such a basic gimmick. It would otherwise mean sacrificing a human for the normies, and Natalie could not stomach that notion. For the magi, it gave them a means of temporary escape, but no means to effectively fight as the problem continued to hunt them. Natalie sat back in her seat as she started to serious contemplate the notion.

“Where'd you go, Nat?” Amanda asked after a nearly a minute of silence.

“Just thinking,” she quietly responded. “Sorry, Padma, I shouldn't have dismissed the idea out of hand. It just sounds so... stupid to think we're going beat the zee by redirecting their attention.”

“Oh, I think we can do much better than that, Colonel Jenkins,” Colonel Lange said in an officious manner that made her two friends grin.

Novel ideas seem obvious when first stated. It often reeks of common sense and makes everyone wonder why someone did not think of it beforehand. However, circumstances need to be just right for a novel approach to take shape. Until the magi and the normies began working together, the plan Amanda Lange concocted on the spot would never enter into anyone's mind. It took the inventive genius of the normies coupled with the amazing talents of the magi to create the proper hybrid. Even before Amanda finished her explanation, both Natalie and Padma began to refine it. They spent the better part of three hours hashing out the details as best they could. By the time they finished a second bottle of wine and decided to call it a night, the trio realized they needed more minds from both worlds to join together to create a finished plan.

When she sat alone on the sofa, hugging a pillow to her chest to contain the feeling of hope she learned to live without for so long, Natalie contemplated the future. The plan, while not the final solution to the massive worldwide problem, gave them a place to start beating back the hoards of undead. It also took both normie and magi working closely together to execute the idea. Amanda managed to summarize the plan in a gruff but accurate statement: create big bombs oozing with magic to attract as many zee as possible, and then blow them bits and back to hell. Unlike past efforts using bombs to eradicate the undead, it did not involve firebombing entire cities or detonating nuclear weapons that only created further problems. Conventional bombs, even small ones, would be effective and not risk the lives of a the living. A plane could fly overhead, drop timed ordinances with parachutes into a thicket of zee, and then get away before detonation. Natalie's grin turned into a smile as he realized the specialized group finally met one of their objectives: provide some form of relief for the troops on the ground. Then the mind of the lieutenant colonel turned to a more personal matter. 

“Dillon?” Natalie quietly said her fiancee's name when he answered the call.

It took her twenty minutes to get permission to make an outbound telephone call outside of her regular schedule. Major Garner wound up pushing the order through with threats of turning Colonel Lange lose on the intelligence officers. Natalie recited the necessary promises of not releasing classified information. She sat in the secluded office of the intelligence branch of the base used for making personal calls.

“Natalie, what's wrong?” Dillon's voice asked in a rush.

“Nothing.”

A pregnant pause lingered between them.

“Nat?” The man on the other end finally broke the silence.

“Dil, we got something,” she whispered into the phone even though she knew someone else listened in. “I can't go into detail or really tell you anything about it ‘til CENTCOM makes a final announcement, but we got something. All these months I've been here... pushing back the wedding... Dil, it was worth every minute.”

“Are you serious?” Dillon inquired with an appropriate amount of incredulousness.

“Next week you'll find out how serious I am. This is... Dil, we can really, finally start to fight back. We can begin to take the world back soon.”

“How? What did you discover?”

Natalie opened her mouth, but her fiancee interjected: “Forget I asked. I know you can't tell me specifics. I guess I'll just have to wait along with everyone else.”

“Yeah, you will,” Natalie rejoined. “But there was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Anything. You know that.”

She smiled even though the man could not see her and inquired: “Dil, what are your favorite names?”

“Male? Female? What? Why?” Dillon countered.

“'Cause I'm thinking maybe in at least two years we're going to have to sort out which ones we like and don't like.”

Natalie heard a sharp intake of breath come through the receiver. During the time it took her to receive permission to make the call, Natalie debated how she could best inform Dillon the seriousness of what she said. In the short period she needed to wait, it dawned on her she could finally think about one topic she avoided for so long. Despite being career-oriented for a good portion of her adult life, she held one option open until the zee invasion began. Once the undead began to threaten all of humanity, she put the idea aside. Since listening to her commanding officer barely an hour before, it brought to light a possibility she did not think wise under current circumstances. Her smile broadened.

“Natalie Jenkins, you'd best not be toying with me! Are you serious?” The voice gushed into her ear.

“If this works, and, dammit, Dil, it's too simple not to, then... yeah, we can do this. Not only will it halt the zee, but it'll con...”

“Colonel Jenkins,” a different male voice interrupted her. “Please remember this is not a secured line for classified discussions.”

“Yes, thanks,” she muttered to the intelligence officer.

“Good god, Nat, don't go and get yourself arrested,” her fiancee begged.

“That's why I'm here, Dr. Cree: to make certain that doesn't happen,” the other male voice edged into their conversation.

“And we both thank you,” Dillon told the intelligence officer who monitored the call.

“Okay, Nat, I'm convinced. If you think we've got a plan to make the world safe enough in two years for children, then it's got to be pretty damn good.”

“It's only the start, Dil. Once they make an official announcement, you'll see all of the avenues we can explore. It isn't the end, but...”

“It's the beginning of the end,” Dillon finished the cliché for her.

“Exactly. I can't tell you, but the world is going to be so much different... and it's going to be a place I want to bring a child into,” she concluded with words only Dillon could properly guage.

“I'm proud of you, Natalie Jenkins,” Dillon said in a tight voice.

“I don't need you to be proud of me,” she teased him.

“Maybe that isn't the right way to say it, but... just knowing you're part of the answer... wish I could be there with you.”

“You could always enlist.”

Dillon snorted and started laughing.

“Maybe not,” Natalie chuckled out the words.

“You sound so much better, Nat. Better than I've heard you in years,” the man, a pediatric cardiologist, said in a soothing tone.

“I feel better, but I'm not delusional, Dil. There's still a lot of work to do, and this isn't the final answer. This is something I might spend the rest of my life investigating, but... alright, it gives me hope. That's what you're hearing.”

“Does Mandy know you're feeling like this?”

“Why?”

“'Cause she has an odd way out talking you out of it,” her fiancee grumbled.

“Not this time, Dillon Cree. Not this time!” Natalie crowed into the phone.

**A Magi Epilogue**

Ronin Wood spent two days at the undisclosed medical military base on the island of Okinawa. It came as a shock to him to find muggle and wizard working together to find a solution to the zed, despite the fact he came from a muggle family. He learned of the absolute importance of the book he and Dean Thomas recovered in China and brought safely to Okinawa. Hours of apparation sickness notwithstanding, Ronin made certain everyone knew of Dennis' role in the recovery. A deep sadness filled him regarding his friend when he considered what Dennis actually did to make the mission a success. Food, a hot shower, and decent night's sleep helped restore him to some degree, although the sorrow and his sense of loss did not abate.

During the interminable meetings he attended with the other magi, a label he found both accurate and eerie, Ronin repeated the story of the travels form Norwich, England, to the Chinese military compound ad nausea. Dean Thomas forced him to relate the tale of Dennis giving peace to the zombie form of Harry Potter, a tale that drew gasps and tears from the magi. Throughout each retelling of various portions, Ronin made certain to highlight Dennis Creevey's enormous contributions to success of the mission. By the time he finished on the second day, even Dean acknowledge Dennis as the central reason they found and retrieved the tome. Much to his surprise, Padma Bray, formerly Patel, spoke in kind tones about her remembrances of Dennis Creevey as a young student at Hogwarts.

Although the staff at the medical base encouraged Ronin to stay and assist with their research efforts, he found himself eager to return to Maella Cala and his family. He needed to speak with someone, mainly his brother and Rose Keller, who would understand how he felt. As such, he got a special treat. Magi and muggles alike refused to let him apparate his way back to England and instead offered to fly him to whatever destination he chose. Thus, the Ronin took his leave of Dean Thomas and the rest and boarded a muggle flying contraption for the first time in his life. The experience left him both excited and terrified at one and the same time since he did not understand the basics of non-magical flight.

Regardless of what he wanted to do, Ronin felt the weight of promises made by he and Dennis. Thus, he diverted his last flight to Norwich. In the city he returned to the inn where he and his late friend resided prior to the departure for China. It took a few reminders, but Tinble Gladstone finally stated she remembered them, but Ronin did not quite believe her. When he asked if Dennis stopped in, it required another long dialogue before she recalled what he looked like. To his dismay, Tinble said Dennis never returned. Ronin hoped against hope that he would. Afterward, he made arrangements to meet with the Deputy Minister of Magic through an exchange of owls.

The next morning Ronin almost got arrested by the wizarding constables when he adamantly refused to relinquish Dennis' sword at the upper receptionist desk of the Shire Hall Study Centre, the facade hiding the new headquarters for the Ministry of Magic. Hermione Granger-Weasley, the deputy minister, got called into the fracas and took possession of the sword herself in order to appease all the parties involved. It nearly left Ronin speechless when she called it a sacred treasure for all humanity because of the hands that wielded it for the wizarding and muggle worlds alike. She then guided him to her office, and Ronin never gave up his wand.

In the office of the deputy minister, Ronin got another surprise: the minister himself sat waiting in the lounge area. A tea service already rested on the table. Minister Shacklebolt, dressed in he preferred African robes, rose and offered his hand to Ronin when he entered and approached.

“We've heard what you accomplished, Mr. Wood... yourself and the others,” the minister said while inviting him to sit.

Ronin held out his hand to the deputy minister, and Hermione returned the sword to him. Then he sat, laid the weapon across his lap, and said: “We succeeded because of Dennis Creevey, sir.”

“We've heard that as well. Major Bray made specific note of his accomplishments since leaving England, and I also note you played no small role in this recovery as well.”

The tall, brawny, African-descended man, now with grizzled gray hair adorning his head, held Ronin with a firm gaze. He throat grew tight as he thought how Dennis should be receiving the accolades in person. He missed his friend.

“Ronin, no one will ever forget what you or Dennis managed to achieve,” Hermione quietly added. “The Creevey family sacrificed everything for the good the wizarding community. That cannot be forgotten.”

Ronin nodded. Dennis never hid how much he adored his older brother who died in the Second Wizarding War at the Battle of Hogwarts. As far as Ronin knew, no Creeveys survived.

“This may be difficult for you at this juncture, Mr. Wood, but we would greatly appreciate a written report of what you experienced in retrieving that notebook. We will make whatever resources you require available,” Minister Shacklebolt told him.

“Yeah, I... ah, yes, I think I should do that,” Ronin agreed in a tight voice. “Does the notebook really contain the secret to how the zed were created? It was all in Chinese, and I never got the chance to look it over before they took it.”

“Let me put it to you this way: that book is the single most important document in the world at this very moment. The people searching for a way to eradicate the modus inferi say it might take weeks to fully decode, but already they've found ways to at least drive back these... things, control them to some extent,” the minister stated.

“You exceeded by my wildest expectations. Regardless, I know you're hurting right now, Ronin, and I understand that more than I think you can imagine,” Hermione said in a flat manner.

Ronin looked up from the sword into her eyes, and there he saw a much larger version of the pain he felt. He lost a close friend, but she lost a husband and the father of their children. It put his feelings into perspective.

“Deputy Minister, I didn't mean to compare...” he began to say.

“Years ago Ronald, Harry and I faced enormous peril in defying Lord Voldemort. It's what brought us together, especially Ron and me, and few people can truly appreciate the bonds those experiences forged. I think you can. I think what you and Dennis lived through made you brothers under the skin,” the lean woman said in a compassionate manner. “I... we... none of us could've got far without people like that to support us...”

“To make us carry on when it seemed hopeless,” Ronin rejoined when she faltered.

A quiet settled over the office. The tea cooled untouched in the pot, and the biscuits rested undisturbed on the plate. The minister, himself the survivor of two wars with Lord Voldemort, looked on in silence. He nodded his head. He, too, understood what emerged between people when faced with shared incredible odds. The younger Wood brother knew a long list of friends and loved ones lost in those wars lay behind the man.

“I want to ask a favor,” Ronin said while contemplating the commonalities he shared with two of the greatest living people in the British wizarding world.

“Consider it done,” Minister Shacklebolt said without pause.

“I want the world to know what Denny did even after the world treated him like crap as a teenager,” he said to the officials. “He was braver than I could ever think of being without his friendship, and he did a lot on his own before we became friends. The world needs to know that about him.”

“The truly great act without consideration about themselves,” the minister ruminated.

“It's what drove Ron and Harry to China. They couldn't just sit around and not do anything while the world fell apart... even though it cost them... everything,” Hermione quietly relayed. “I think... I think they needed to try and make the world a better place... not for them, but for those they cared about. I believe that's what drove Dennis as well.”

Minister Shacklebolt snorted and said: “What I object to the most is how often we don't realize who these people are until it's too late. How can we reward them... thank them for what they do?”

“We can remember,” Ronin replied.

“How would you remember your friend?” Hermione inquired.

“Take his sword,” he started and stared down at the object in his lap. “Take it and put it somewhere where everyone can see it. Put up a sign or a plaque or something that says what he did with it went far beyond magic... he saved lives with it. He saved a world.”

“And what about you, Mr. Wood? You also helped save a world. How do you want to be remember for your efforts?” Minister Shacklebolt inquired.

“I don't need to be remembered. I just need to make sure my brother and his family are safe,” Ronin said in a trembling voice as his fingers curled around sheath of the blade. “Then I need to keep some promises Dennis never got to complete. I owe that to him.”

“You sound like Harry,” Hermione murmured as she stared at some invisible point in the distance.

Ronin's mouth fell open as he considered the enormity of the compliment the woman paid him. Minister Shacklebolt then leaned over and whispered into the deputy minister's ear. Hermione became focused, and she tilted her head to one side in apparent thought. After a few seconds, she mimicked the minister's actions and whispered in his ear.

“That is... reasonable,” the man replied to the hidden statement. He then shifted his gaze to Ronin. “You are aware Mr. Creevey does not have any surviving immediate relatives?”

Ronin Wood nodded his head.

“Then we believe it's fitting you should inherit what estate Mr. Creevey leaves behind...”

“Minister, I can't...”

“You can and you will, Mr. Wood. You nearly gave up your life to see this task through, and nothing we can give you can act as compensation,” the minister interjected in Ronin's interruption. “Besides, I hate to think of what the goblins will do with the contents of his vault. If the heptagon is in there...”

The man trailed off and then shivered a bit.

“Seriously, Ronin, all Dennis had in the world is in his vault at Gringott's. He never owned a house or any property we're aware of. It seems he liked to travel light,” Hermione said while she eyed Minister Shacklebolt.

“That's an understatement,” he agreed.

“May I inquire what happened to your mace?” The deputy minister inquired.

“Dennis... used it when he led the zed... shite, but I'm so stupid! He... asked to trade me weapons before he pulled the zed out of the base. Said he wanted me to keep it safe for him. He knew....”

“Of course he knew exactly what he was doing,” Minister Shacklebolt intoned. “Mr. Wood, I think it would be best if you kept the sword until such time you feel it... truly is safe.”

“I agree” Hermione told him. “Thank you, Ronin, and... and we want you to know we understand and appreciate what you endured for the past year. It puts you in some exclusive company.”

“Maybe,” Ronin responded and shrugged. “But can I tell you something... and I mean just to you two?”

“What you say will not leave this office, Mr. Wood.”

Deputy Minister Granger-Weasley bobbed her head in agreement.

“See, when I headed out with Dennis, I wasn't thinking about going out and doing anything heroic,” Ronin quietly confessed. “It was just an excuse to get out and go places with my friend. Sure, sure, I knew we were trying to get something done, but... that was never really the reason for me.”

The minister smiled a private smile while the deputy minister said: “Harry, Ron, and I never thought much about it either. None of us liked to be told what we couldn't do, so we just... tried to see how many rules we could break before somebody yelled at us. It was... we were mental, especially because we thought we could take on Voldemort for the same reasons at first. It wasn't until our friends started dying around us when we realized just how important all of what we did became.”

“Same with the Order. We didn't like Voldemort or his followers, so we banded together to prove he was wrong,” Minister Shacklebolt added.

“Are the reasons always this personal and... petty?”

The two top ministry officials stared at him for a few moments. They glanced at each other. A half smile cocked the minster's face. The deputy minister raised her eyebrows.

Minister Shacklebolt nodded his head and said: “Maybe that's how it needs to start, Mr. Wood. Maybe it needs to be personal for us to finally act. People can call it altruistic all they want, but... I think you fit the peg in the hole. No one sets out to be heroic, it happens along the way because we end up in the right place at the right time... perhaps the wrong place at the wrong time... but we end up there, and the we go one step further. Worlds are lost and saved because of personal, petty reasons.”

Ronin felt oddly relieved at the answer and added: “Denny never set out to do this. He got distracted by Oliver and me back in Scotland. One thing led to another and we found Rose... then Denny found out about Mysie, and that led to trying to find her for Oliver. We stumbled across Katie while tracking down where the Edinburgh refugees went, and then that led to hearing about Dean... and Katie died... none of this began because we knew we had to stop the zed. It all just... happened.”

“But you never stopped,” Hermione stated.

“No, never saw any reason to quit. Denny just wanted to find some bleeding necklace for the Scullery Maid at Hogwarts... and it took him all the way to China and getting hundreds of zed to chase him so Dean and I could get in and grab that notebook,” Ronin spoke as if suddenly realizing the absurdity of it all.

“And now that you're back in England?” The minister queried.

He looked at the important man, frowned a bit, and answered: “I go and find that damn necklace and make sure the Maid knows Denny was good to his word. Then I find out what else he promised and make sure that gets done.”

“You're a good friend to him, Ronin,” the deputy minister stated.

“Maybe, but mostly I'm a bit thick and stubborn. I'm Scottish, you know.”

“It's a personal and petty reason, but it's a reason to get you out there doing something. Did you ever stop to think perhaps that's all your friend did? Maybe Mr. Creevey simply let it lead him to places he would never visit on his own accord,” Minister Shacklebolt posited.

Ronin blinked at the man.

“Don't over-think it, Mr. Wood. In my experience, sometimes it's best to simply follow your gut instinct. It might seem crazy at the time, but... it often works out for the best. You might be surprised how far looking for a necklace might actually take you,” the minister said in a serious tone, but his eyes sparkled.

Ronin tried to take the advice, but his brain focused on two central points. The rest of the talk with the minister and deputy minister happened without his actively remembering what got said. He did remember they requested he notify them wherever he decided to land for a while. Ronin stated again he planned to go Maella Cala to see his brother and the man's family. The ministry officials stressed the need for him to commit his experiences to a more permanent form while still fresh in his mind, and he agreed for a second time. When he departed, his mind buzzed with the notion he now needed to figure out his future.

Later that evening Ronin sat in his room at The Midnight Owl. He studied a map of British Isles. He tried some of the charms he saw Ronin use in the past. Lines and spots illuminated the large sheet of paper. On a small notepad he wrote down as much as he could remember of the story Dennis told him about the Scullery Maid and her necklace. Somewhere in a field in Broxburn the piece of jewelry lay hidden. Ronin stared at the information he assembled. It did not seem like much on which to begin a hunt, but then again he and Dennis traveled across a third of the world based on much less. He smiled a smile tinged with sadness.

“I think I know why you traded me weapons, you git,” he said to no one. “It's much better for field work than a mace. I might never be as good with it as you, but... it'll work a treat when it comes down to it. Fucking zed.”


End file.
